"Monday mornings," I take a deep breath, surveying the binding room for The Quibbler, "This entire week, has been Monday mornings."

The mousey girl next to me, Miss Elladora Greendrop, flings a folder of papers across her desk. She adjusts her horn rimmed glasses on her nose, looking exasperated with pencils flying wildly out of her loose updo. She has silky brown hair and elusive brown eyes that could charm many a warlock, but being a workaholic means she hides behind many an outfit. Elladora is the Quibbler's second editor, and my best friend.

"Every day of every bloody bleeding year is a Monday Luna, I thought you'd noticed," Elladora sighs and floats a quill over to her desk. A flick of the wrist and she sets the charm to spell correct. Almost instantly, vicious red marks fill up the page, placing finishing touches on it. That, I think, is why I do my own correcting.

"Well, if you were just a bit chipper."

"I wasn't born to be chipper" Elladora says distractedly, whirling herself around the desk like a kart racer and picking up multitudes of paper.

"How much do I pay you?"

"Far too little," she laughs.

"Then raises all around!" I yell to the empty room.

"I'm sure the printing machine is out of his ink cartridges."

"I do believe he's jiggling."

"Oh Luna," she sighs "is it true?"

"Has someone died?" I start thinking that something may have happened to Ron or Hermione; they've been on their honeymoon in the tropics for about a week now. Though, knowing Hermione, she'll have Ron immunized for everything possible. I smile absent mindedly. The wedding was only a bit ago, and already it feels like forever. I bet their house is immaculate.

"No, about you and George Weasley."

I gasp dramatically.

"How could you think such a thing Elladora? You know I would tell you first."

Truth be told we have been dating a bit.

"No you wouldn't, that's just a little thing you would keep hidden after your rendezvous with Draco Malfoy."

"I was drunk; I don't think it was a rendezvous."

I ponder this. It wasn't. George is great though. A goofy smile spreads across my face.

"I knew it" Elladora declares but I ignore her, I barely pay her anything anyway. I giggle. The past week has been one big blob of monotony, except when I see George. There is a sudden clinking, signaling that the quill Elladora enchanted has finished it's correcting. I pet the quill lightly, telling it it's done a good job.

"Luna, you've lost it, you're in love."

"I'm not; I just think quills deserve rewards too."

"Is he making more than me now?"

"Who's crazy? You just addressed that quill as a he."

"Isn't that calling the rice white?" I give her a weird eyebrow look "Sorry, these articles aren't as great anymore."

I nod, once again not really paying attention. My thoughts drift to Mr. Weasley. He does love it when I call him that. I don't know why. After I woke up, by the Weasley twins' requirement, George cooked me a proper breakfast and whisked himself off to work. George and Fred throw themselves into their work a lot, I've noticed. With their job, I can't blame them, tinkering with toys and playing with pranks all day long. The Willy Wonka's of the troubling wizard world.

"We've had a first date" I say with a grin. Elladora drops her quill and swings over to me.

"And?"

"It was wonderful, he's nothing like Neville," Elladora winces at the mention of his name. Neville has moved off to China with Frederique Astaire "he's charming, funny, and sweet. And I'm wondering if he's just another beginning of the relationship Neville."

Elladora bites her lip, "I could spy."

"You'd have to meet him."

"I could live with that. As long as the whole happy clan doesn't come along."

"Perfect," I moan, noticing the time "I should boot; George wants to drag me to some mystery location. I'll set up java or something you'll like."

"How about Venice?" she calls as I apparate out.

"George" I moan loudly. My communicator buzzes as I ride a muggle Tran. The communicator is disguised as one of their cell phones and is connected to the World Wide Witch Network.

"I know love, but I have to stay late. Fred's being a real old prude," George sparks from the other end of the line. I whine pitifully.

"You're identical, that means you're an old prude. George, if you're going to always end up working late, I don't even want to attempt this-"

"Love! Luna! No, don't start getting ideas."

"Why not?"

"Because I really like you, and I don't want this to end before it even starts. Ask anybody in my family, they know I don't stay late unless we're on the brink."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

I bite my lip identical to Elladora.

"Can I have a hint?"

"It's big."

"Gigantic?"

"This nugget will put us on the map."

"You made the map, Mr. Weasley, now get to work."

I clap the communicator, cutting off the signal and lean back with a smile.

Back at the Burrow, I am practically swimming in family love. It's sickening if you think about it, but I'm too happy to be thinking. Everyone is running off their high from the wedding, Harry and Remus are hanging about. They both seem to be keeping a close eye on me, but are effectively masquerading that by being jolly old friends of the family and therefore entitled.

"You look happy" a grown up Ginny says to me, handing me a mug of butterbeer and settling herself in the chair next to me.

"I guess I am" I take a large sip of the butterbeer and content myself with staring at the fire place and allow the butterbeer to burn lightly in my stomach. Ever since that wedding hangover, I've been reacting harshly to alcohol.

"Your cheeks are glowing, your lips are pouty, and your hair is shiny and bouncy," Remus says, welcoming himself into the small gathering "I do believe you're in love Miss Luna."

"I don't know about that one either Remus" I blush lightly, trying to adjust to calling him Remus and feign off questions about George. Ginny grins in the typical Weasley way.

"You do like him, and I know he likes you," she giggles.

"How would you know?"

"You're all he talks about in his journal. Well, not journal exactly, but pensieve."

"George has a pensieve? George has thoughts?"

Ginny giggles again, "He had to develop them eventually. Come see."

Remus takes the butterbeer gently from my hands and I follow Ginny to George's room in the Weasley household. He and Fred own a house, but still keep a room here. The room is still as messy and disorganized as their days in Hogwarts, as I remember it when I got invited here starting the year George and Fred left school. In the corner of the mess however, are two tall bowls, one beside George's bed and one next to Fred's. Ginny gently creeps on George's and whispers something to it.

"Password?"

"According to the Weasley genetic pattern, yeah. You'd think they'd have tighter security these two, being the ones who break into everything."

I giggle as the pensieve swirls below my straightened body. It starts to churn quicker and quicker until Ginny grabs my hand and dabs the silvery liquid lightly. My body is suddenly jerked harshly into the pot, not an extra sound made to the world except a fluid whooshing in our ears. I out of the blue realize sometimes solitude is our best gift. It helps us lose ourselves.