Ron woke up early, extremely early considering it was Saturday. He glared out the little bedroom window of Number 12 Grimmauld Place to see it was raining. The storm must have woken him up.

Neither he nor Harry had wanted to take the master bedroom. They believed Walburga may have cursed the room during her last few months alive. The fact that the terrible woman had died in the bedroom was enough to keep Ron far away from it. They hadn't even bothered to change out the furniture in most of the house so there was little chance he'd ever need venture into the Black matriarch's room for any aesthetic purposes.

Ron had opted for one of the guest bedrooms on the first floor. It hadn't been as large as Regulus' or Sirius' rooms but there also wasn't a history in the bed sheets. Harry had done the same.

He was starting to get used to the ghastly old town house. At one point the building must had been charming. On rainy days a gloomy but settling air would inhabit the dark wooden walls and floorboards. Dreary, sure, but also weirdly calming.

Back in the room he had shared with Hermione at her parents old home a rainy morning would have included a cozy feather comforter, a lit fireplace and a warm embrace.

His current bed was cold and lumpy. It sagged on one side which caused him to fall to the floor most nights during his sleep. An empty iron stove sat across the room on black soot stained lion feet. It's hearth had remained dark and cold for decades.

He considered lighting the stove and trying to go back to sleep but his stomach flipped over itself in hunger forcing him to slide out of the room and descend to the kitchen barefoot.

The grandfather clock on the first landing stated that it was almost quarter past five. Harry wouldn't be up for a while so Ron opted for a small meal of apple slices and toast. Maybe later he would make omelettes or perhaps a quiche. Ron liked quiche. He thought he had some broccoli and onions to use up that he could throw in. There was a good brick of sharp cheddar he could grate on top.

A crash from upstairs interrupted his thoughts about food.

"Kreacher?" He put down his toast and made his way to the upper floor where he thought he heard the house elf stomping around the parlor. At most he would see Kreacher once a week and usually in the evening. He thought the elf had acquired a habit of drinking the house wine but he had yet to catch the little monster in the act. Kreacher spent most of his hours either sleeping or hidden away and crying in his old mistresses' room. Harry claimed he had seen the elf wearing Lady Black's dressing gowns, pretending he was her. Ron wouldn't be surprised if the poor old gargoyle had started to hallucinate in his later years.

A muffled voice echoed from the hall and Ron prepared himself to catch the horrid elf in some outfit he had dug out of a doxy infested wardrobe. Instead he found a blond young woman in purple stockings and a green dress stretched out before the fireplace, her toes wiggling in the warmth.

"Luna?" He tripped over the carpet since he stopped paying attention to where he was putting his feet.

"Hello, Ron." She beamed at him.

"What the…? Luna, it's not even half five yet, what are you doing here?"

"I came in last night but you were already in bed. Harry told me to come back in the morning."

Ron groaned and made his way to the leather armchair by the fireplace. "You didn't have to get here this early." He sat down.

"Well, I didn't want to miss you." She looked back at the fire. "We keep missing each other by tiny bits and I was beginning to think you were avoiding me on purpose."

Wasn't that the truth. After the first time she had Flooed here Luna had attempted to run into him twice more. Ron had made sure on both occasions to have an excuse not to be there. He had even involved Percy once, telling his brother he had wanted to meet for lunch instead of going back to his cubicle where he had seen the doty Ravenclaw heading.

"Um, yeah. Listen, I don't think…."

"Have you ever had your lightwaves read?"

"What?"

"Your lightwaves. They're used to measure the energies in a structure. I think it would be interesting to see how a house such as this one would measure up. I haven't been in a building with so much dark magic in it since I was at Malfoy Manor."

"Um, sure."

"I wonder if the Malfoys know that there's three centuries worth of druid temple magic in their cellar. It makes it hard to sleep when there's a corrupt pentagram in the area."

She was actually smiling over the memory of her time at Malfoy Manor. It sidetracked him so much that he didn't think over the proper way to respond.

"I'm sure you were kept awake by other reasons too. Ollivander always seemed like a creep to me. Can't imagine having to share a cell with him being fun."

It was probably the worst possible thing he could have said. Her smile instantly was gone, replaced by a frightened gaze that had her breaking eye contact with him and staring into the fire. It was as if Ron had slapped her.

"I worry about him." She said softly. So softly that he thought she didn't want him to hear.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Ron put his head in his hands. "I'm rubbish at talking to people. I didn't mean that about Ollivander. It's kind of you to worry about him."

"I don't." She looked back at him. "Mr. Ollivander is doing swimmingly. He adopted a son after the war; an orphan. I think he wants to teach him how to make wands."

Ron felt a bit better after hearing that. "But you just said you worry about him."

"Not him, Malfoy."

Ron blinked. "Huh?"

"I could do it for you if you'd like." She pulled her knees up under her chin, causing the short dress to bunch up at her hips. Ron tried not to stare at the ample view of her thighs that emerged under the green lace.

"Uh, what? Talking to people?"

"Oh no, not that." She started smiling again and Ron felt his ears get hot. Had she always been this pretty? "Reading the lightwaves. I have a set of scrying crystals that were my grandmother's. They work splendid."

"I suppose…"

"It would have to be on the spring equinox. Probably best if we did it at midnight too." Luna started tapping her nose with her index finger. Her eyes drifted to the side unfocused. "I talked with Kreacher about it. He says his mistress would approve."

Ron frowned. So he had heard the house elf earlier. Kreacher must have been the one to welcome Luna into the house. Ron was a little shocked that they're encounter seemed to go so well.

"Although afterwards he called me a filthy blood traitor so I'm not sure he really meant it. Who's the mistress of the house?"

So their encounter had only gone partially well. That made more sense.

"Walburga Black." Ron grumbled. "Sirius Black's mother. She's been dead for years so don't listen to anything Kreacher says about her."

"So Harry and Ginny didn't get married?"

Ron had to pause a second to stare at her and try to figure out how she had gotten to that conclusion.

"Beg pardon?"

"Well, since Harry owns the house Ginny would be the mistress."

Ron chuckled. "No, Harry and Ginny didn't get married."

"Oh good. Their auras don't work together at all." She put her knees down and sighed as she stretched out her feet again.

For a minute or three they sat without speaking. Ron didn't feel any desire to discuss the ongoing Harry and Ginny saga. The pair had been crazy about each other until Ginny had gotten cold feet a few weeks ago. Instead of talking, Ron watched Luna fiddle with the lace on her dress, the faint hiss of raindrops and the crackle of the ancient fireplace filling the room with light popping sounds.

"So…" Ron cleared his throat. "Is there a reason why you're here?"

"I love the rain. It makes everything smell good. Did you know that rainbows give people hope?" She scooted toward him a bit, inching her bum across the dusty carpet. "It's because the leprechauns use them to cure sicknesses. Hundreds of years ago, Muggles with leprosy would seek out the rainbows in hopes of basking in them and being cured. In return for their healing, the leprechauns would take their gold."

"Truly?" Ron grinned at the sweet little story even if it was hogwash.

"Do you find that you have hope, Ronald?" She had wriggled next to his side and draped her head against the armrest of the leather chair, her cheek a mere centimeter away from his knee. He hesitated for a second before slipping out of the leather seat and onto the floor beside her.

After the lockdown at the Ministry the other day, hope had been far from his mind. They had barely returned from rushing Nott to St. Mungo's only to join a four hour long debriefing lecture about Death Eaters. If he had thought he knew every horrible thing the Dark Lord's followers had done, Robards and Shacklebolt had been there to prove him wrong. They even had the photographs and paper records to go with it.

"I try to." He said, watching how her yellow curls tumbled over her shoulders as she shook her head.

"I do too." She said. She continued to gaze into the fire. "There are vampire squirrels in the Forbidden Forest."

"What?" Ron shifted away from her a smidgen.

"Hagrid says he's seen at least four of them since November. I have to go meet with him at sunrise to investigate. A good vampire squirrel finding always makes a perfect cover story."

Then without a nod, a goodbye, or even a brief description of the physical appearance of blood sucking squirrels, Luna left. The faint aroma of rain soaked cotton and ash from the Floo powder being the only hints that she had been there.

Ron didn't realize how long he sat before the fire until Harry padded into the room some time later. His friend's hair looked like a mouse had climbed into and died, he desperately needed a shave and his glasses were crooked.

"There you are!" Harry gave a frustrated huff. "Did you sleep down here?"

Ron shook his head. "Just been chatting with Luna." He turned to look at the famous Boy Who Lived. At the moment the young wizard who had taken down Lord Voldemort in a one on one duel was picking his teeth with his fingernails.

"Well it's about bloody time! What did she say?"

"Nothing much really. She wants to do some sort of wave reading on the house."

Harry snorted. "A wave reading?"

"Don't ask." Ron rolled his eyes. "You're up awful early. What is it, six o'clock?"

"Seven." Harry answered glumly, clearly wishing he was still abed. "I slept terribly. Bad dreams."

"Still?" Ron eyed his friend with worry. Harry had never slept great since the War but lately it seemed to be getting worse. Certainly Death Marks being cast over Muggle London wasn't helping.

"I'm sure they will stop soon." Harry brushed off Ron's concerned look. "So I saw you went to the cheese shop yesterday. Any thoughts on breakfast?"

Ron grunted a single laugh. "Subtle much aren't you?"

"Like you want me to cook? Last time that happened you told me the bacon was abysmal. A little harsh, Ron." He offered him his hand to pull Ron to his feet. "Also, I got an owl from George you're going to want to see."

As they trudged out of the parlor Ron pulled his wand out to snuff the fireplace. "What's he want now?"

Harry was grinning so much his teeth sparkled. "Apparently he has a new girlfriend. A Muggle, no less. But also," Harry stopped while they were halfway down the stairwell to the kitchen, "he found out some pretty shocking things about Fred. The Muggles have his body."

Ron stumbled into Harry and they both had to snatch onto the greying banister as not to tumble down the stairs.

"What!?"

Harry helped him down the rest of the stairs and into the kitchen. "Read the letter first and then we can start talking about it."

The short note from George made Ron more confused about the situation instead of reassuring him. George had scribbled a few sentences describing a girl he had met through the Muggle law enforcement who was investigating the reappearance of dead twins.

"What the fuck?!" Ron collapsed to a laying position on the benches that sat beside the long tables of the cellar dining area.

"I think we should pay George a visit. Or perhaps your parents." Harry took the letter back to read again. "Obviously he isn't telling us everything."

"George is dating?"

"Really? That's the first thing you're getting from this?"

"He's dating the girl who found Fred's body!" Ron sat up to read Harry a line from the letter.

She's really smart and I'm certain she'll figure this out. It's been nice getting to know her too.

"What the hell is he thinking!? That can't be healthy!"

Harry frowned. "If it's the same girl I met earlier he's thinking about a pretty face and blond hair."

"You met her?!" Ron snarled at him. "And since when does George write to you instead of me?" The idea that his brother had overstepped Ron and wrote an owl to Harry hurt.

Harry shrugged but still had the grace to look a little ashamed. "I think he meant to write to both of us."

"The letter's addressed to you!" He pointed to the heading on the note that displayed Harry's name in George's scratchy hand.

"I think you're going to have to ask him about that not me. Listen, we could stop by his shop later and bombard him with all the questions you want. I don't think he works late on Saturdays."

They both knew that Ron's older brother did nothing but run his joke shop. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was doing well and the man could easily afford to hire staff. Yet George seemed content to slave away at the storefront alone.

"He probably does." Ron said in answer to Harry's comment. "He lives in that store."

"Also something that isn't healthy." Harry admitted. "I don't know, maybe it's kinda good that he's finally getting out and meeting people. I'm sure she's a nice girl."

Ron scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "She's a Muggle."

"What does that matter? If she makes George happy why do you care?"

He shouldn't care really. Harry was right of course. If anyone deserved a pretty girlfriend to cheer him up it was George. But did he have to pick the woman who was investigating his brother's misplaced body?

"It just weirds me out. Not the Muggle thing so much but, you know."

Harry nodded. "Could we go back to the making breakfast thing? I don't want to talk about your brother's love life anymore."

"Hey, you brought it up." Ron crumpled up the note and tossed it at Harry's head.

"Ouch!" Harry massaged his head dramatically where the paper hit him.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" Ron batted his eyelashes and gave him the most puppy dog expression he could.

Harry just ignored his sass and stomped off to the ice box. "Guess I'll have to eat all this lovely cheese on my own. Oh woe is me."

"You touch any of that and I'll skin you!" Ron hurried to bypass his friend before starting on the process of making breakfast.