I feel like this chapter lost touch with the characters personalities. I'll read the books again, and hopefully next chapter will be up soon! (:

"And then..."

I roll my eyes. How many thens are there? Shouldn't Elladora be freaking out and rushing for her thesaurus? Darn Weasley's. They've too much charm.

George, sitting next to me, calmly sipping some Fire Whiskey, even though I told him about oh, five times, what it does to his heart (there was an article on it, check the Quibbler), laughing at all the appropriate moments of Charlie's jokes.

It's like a laugh circus. A laugh riot. A laugh...everything. Except for me.

Huzzah.

"Luna, you seem down."

"Oh, do I?" I beam, "I hadn't meant to. My mind is preoccupied."

Honestly, Ms. Elladora Greendrop, what upsets me is that I might have to fire you.

George's hand rests itself on my thigh and gives it a little squeeze, trying to be supportive. He doesn't know what's wrong either though, and looks at me with a confused grimace, trying to be that supportive I need. I'd rather be alone in the bathroom. I am here, however, listening to Charlie's wonderful stories of Romania, which I bet he misses all the time, and I bet he can't settle with one woman anyway, because he is so acclimated to adrenaline and life threatening excitement, and he wouldn't fancy the idea of one bland woman for years and years.

Yes. That's exactly why he's single still.

'Stop being nasty,' the voice in my head sneers. My guilt complex is coming back around again.

A shiver runs through my spine again, a natural occurrence lately, as George's hand shifts and nudges me a little. I look up at him, a little lost in my thoughts and he raises his eyebrows. I glance over at Elladora and Charlie, who are charmingly eating their exact same spaghetti dishes (which they had politely mentioned that it was such a coincidence), and a waiter behind me says "Excuse me." A blush creeps onto my cheeks and I let him set down my salad. George gives me another look.

I pick up a fork, thinking. 'Salad, salad, full of lettuce...'

That sounds like a limerick.

George finally removes his hand from my thigh, and begins to eat the strange thing he's ordered. Looks like squid to me, which turns my stomach a little onto itself. I can see the writhing squid twisting and turning down my esophagus.

Ew.

Why did it have to be Bill that was married?

Back at home, I slide the ruby red heels I'd been wearing off my feet uncomfortably, and wearily drag myself to the couch.

"I don't know what was wrong with you tonight, Luna," George says, removing his dinner jacket lined with purple and yellow stripes. I hold onto my head, feeling like a domestic fight on a drama show.

"I don't know either George, honest."

"Sweetie, you know you can't lie," George settles himself into my couch next to me, wiggling me closer, "tell Uncle George what's stuck in your hosery."

"That would be those little bits of squid you were flicking at me" I indicate by flicking him on the nose and giving him a smile. I rest my head on his shoulder.

"Well, it was something with Elladora or Charlie, I see," he says seriously, despite his Weasley freckles, "since you're fine at home, and here with me. Which I'm glad over, as I spent all dinner wondering what I could have possibly done wrong."

"Since you're perfect, indeed," I laugh, "how could you commit imperfection? Impossible." He won't crack a smile.

"Really, Luna."

"I have to fire Elladora."

"What? Why? You're practically twins at work!"

"She's been really slacking off, since she met Charlie. I mean, she approves of you and all..."

George finally cracks, "oh, I've been tried, tested, and true stamped, have I?"

"Yes" I say simply. He pinches my shoulder, "ouch!"

"But yes," I straighten, pulling a frown and pretending to be in a business meeting, "Charlie is not a fantastic influence on her."

"Oh yes he is," George rides up on a white horse to his brother's defense, "she's much happier, everyone can see it, she practically glows, and she much more relaxed than when I met her first."

"But her work is suffering! I had to put in three retracts in this month's issue for her lack of fact checking skills last month, three is pretty serious!"

"Well do you have to fire her over it?"

"If I get sued..."

"I know Luna, I run a business too."

"It's the same thing George. You kill someone with a Puking Pastille, and you get sued up the wazoo. I kill someone in print, and bye bye to lovely lifestyle, and my father's legacy."

"Oh, Ms. Lovegood, you take yourself too seriously sometimes," he says sympathetically, pulling me closer and into his lap, hugging me into submission. I kiss him gently on the cheek and rest my head on his shoulder, feeling like a scene in a movie. This sort of thing doesn't normally happen to me.

"Are you happy, George?"

"Of course I am. Are you happy, Luna?"

"Yes, very, I believe."

"You believe?"

"Sometimes my mind tricks itself."

He kisses my forehead, "everyone's does. We just want to be happy."

And for some reason Remus pops into my head. I wonder if he's happy. I wonder if Tonks was happy in their relationship. I wonder if they'll ever feel that same kind of happiness again. Will I be able to wake up and feel this happiness forever?

I burrow my head into George's neck. Thoughts are too difficult tonight.

"Drown me, George, make me forget."

He looks seriously at me, "I don't know how."

"You always do," I answer, pulling his fire red hair through my fingers, curling the edges of my lips into a seductive grin and kissing him until I feel the rush of warm air from his nose speed its way into oblivion.

And there's the old Luna, spinning into circles and circles, crashing on the ground with giggles and plinking and plunking noises of handmade jewelry, and blonde hair sprawled in a halo around her head, and there's another boy on top of her, saying she looks like a sun goddess, with all that light. She's drowning in this light, dizzy and decadent and delicious, he says above her. Her head is full of poetry.

The grass is green and the sky is blue, or is it the other way around? She wonders out loud. He laughs, kissing her quickly and longingly. The world is pretty huge, but all there is is blonde against green right now, and the black robes scattered on the ground, sagging and lazy from summer heat, and his black hair the same way.

And suddenly the magic doesn't exist any longer, as realism snakes its way through long ago dreams, hidden in the back of her wardrobe. The Luna of childhood and wonder has disappeared under a pale chest with a few wisps of hair and sweat beads. Innocence dies in the grass.

This memory eludes me as I wake up in a stupor. My body feels full and overflowing, George is content and asleep.

First times aren't supposed to be fantastic, but every girl has her dream of romance.

George continues to sleep, surprisingly not snoring, as if he's contended as a child.

And suddenly I need to get out and breathe.

I pull on a purple sundress, letting the light fabric slide its way over this smooth canvas I call skin, and topple myself downstairs, into the sunshine of the deck. I pull up the umbrella, letting the light stream through the green and yellow, and sit.

"Good morning Luna!" I hear a voice call. I smile at the familiar sight from the grass in front of my house.

"Shouldn't you be home by now, Remus Lupin? Running away with your phantom pack?"

"Of course I should, but this side of England is so lovely this time of summer," he says, making his way through the unruly grasses and charmingly making his way up the stairs. "This is a very nice view, isn't it?"

I nod, motioning for him to sit down. He shrugs off his jacket, putting it gently on the table, and I smile at him.

"Would you like some tea?"

"Oh, do drop the formalities Luna, but yes, some tea sounds wonderful."

I slide my way from my comfortable chair and head to the kitchen, seeing that George is up, and has a kettle on the stove. He comes up behind me, sliding his arms around my waist and placing his head on my shoulder.

"I've never seen this dress" he comments roughly in my ear, kissing my earlobe.

"I know, I think I look horrid in purple," I giggle.

"I'll have to keep that in mind" he growls.

"George! Professor Lupin is outside on the deck."

George wanders off to the deck without another word. I smile at his receding frame, holding myself in that warm second when I can still feel his arms wrapped around me, and I'm overwhelmed with contentment. I busy myself pouring tea into three cups.

"Oh look, there's the moon," I comment, staring at the sky as I bring the tea outside. George glances up, his mind too busy to focus on something miniscule, but Remus continues to stare up as I sit down and drink my tea. George and Remus continue the conversation they had been having before I entered.

"So it does sound quite exciting George, I assume your mother and father are proud?"

"Well, I'm sure Dad is, but Mum's always another case. She still gets on about how me and Fred should've finished our schooling, maybe we'd be more mature about it now."

"The business seems to be running smoothly though, correct?"

"Very, when Fred is handling the books, at least. I'm too absent minded," they talk like proper gentlemen at their afternoon tea. I laugh.

"What is it?"

"Ha ha, you two sound like old codgers," I continue to laugh, my tea jiggling precariously in its cup.

"I'm no old codger," George says, dragging my chair closer to his and pecking me on the cheek, "I've enough youth for you, Ms. Business Brain."

Remus smiles fondly at us, until I notice his eyes beginning to tint a little greener. I've seen that from father too, envy. Soon after, it was malice.

I finger the edge of my sundress, playing with a small, loose thread.

"Anything wrong, love?"

"Just the Elladora thing."

"Elladora? Your other editor?" Remus pipes in.

"You know about her?" I ask.

"Of course, I read the Quibbler."

I grin, "that's nonsensical for a man like you Remus."

Why am I still treating him like professor?

"One must maintain one's youthful outlook," he toasts me "she's a lovely, quiet girl, is she?"

"Quiet and extraordinary," I say, leaning back in my chair, quoting her. I look up, as both men are staring at me.

"I feel old."

I laugh, "I feel older. I must have grown up in the last week."

"Luna could never grow up."

The funny thing is, I think she finally did.