LUXANNA WAS LOOKING at herself in the long mirror next to her bed, contemplating whether to attend the ball at all. Her whole plan seemed silly now, having had time to properly consider it. Merlin knew Potter was a disobedient little boy, more prone to fits of anger than having the patience to hold a single serious conversation. You aren't any better these days… said a small, judgemental voice in her head, but Luxanna quickly snuffed it out, focusing instead on adjusting her robe in preparation for the evening. One thing was certain, though; Potter would most definitely show up, and alone. She had made sure of that.

"This could make a nice disguise, don't you think? I'll be just an enchanted piece of jewellery. Go on dear, change me into another colour, I suggest gold would look good."

On me? Or on you? Luxanna wanted to say, but there were too many prying eyes. She waved her wand in a circular motion above her head, attempting to coat Frost in gold, but succeeding only in turning her into a rusty sort of pinkish hue, catching the eyes of her dormmates who sniggered at her lack of Transfiguration skills.

"Oh…" Luxanna murmured in disappointment.

"That's good enough, don't worry about it," Frost whispered.

"Oh, how gorgeous is that diadem… It's a serpent!" Rowle chimed in as Luxanna stepped back to study her reflection.

"You think you're the Slytherin queen now?" added Travers, giggling along with Rowle.

"Jealousy is a pitiful thing…" mused Frost in response.

"Shut it now, girls, today is the day of the ball, it shall be a day of truce." announced Selwyn, interrupting the other girls' sniggers as she stepped out of the bathroom, "Oh, you look… nice, Black."

It wasn't clear whether Selwyn was being sarcastic, so Luxanna answered in a flat tone of her own. "Thanks." She shifted her attention back to the mirror, making some final touches to her hair.

Consider yourself lucky, Selwyn, you already had a date, thought Luxanna. It had not been easy work hunting all those girls down, and far less easy work figuring out which of them were already taken. Of course, she could have just gone ahead and got rid of Selwyn, too, but as strange as it was to admit, she and Selwyn had been… on even grounds of sorts, ever since last week when Luxanna had openly cried in front of her about her supposed boyfriend's wickedness, and the girl sat and listened. What an odd thing... she mused as she thought back on the scene. Luxanna had managed to spin it in such a way that made her seem like a victim from the beginning: Weasley had brought her down to the dungeons where they had a nasty argument which ended in him raising a fist at her—so, naturally, they were now broken up. This would explain why she was not going with Weasley to the ball and finally put an end to the silly gossip, seeing as it already served its purpose in distracting Selwyn from seeking out much more worrying rumours—Luxanna's secret, for instance. As long as she doesn't realise it was all a fluke... the thought was mingled with something akin to... was it affinity she was feeling for the foolish girl?

"Rude much," remarked Travers maliciously. "At least return the courtesy by complimenting her back."

"Leave it," instructed Selwyn as she set on trimming her eyebrows. "She's probably not over what happened with Weasley…"

The others fell silent at her command, allowing for a moment of quiet contemplation during which Luxanna spied Selwyn out of the corner of her eye as she begrudgingly approached her from across the room.

"That pink looks dreadful," she declared with a frustrated groan. "Here, let me." She whipped Luxanna's hand away before drawing her own wand and reciting the correct incantation, and with a wave of her hand coated Frost in a glistening golden hue. She then changed the reflective colour of Luxanna's dress from silver to gold to match.

"See?" Selwyn then asked as Luxanna stood away to inspect herself. "Much better."

Did… did Selwyn just make a genuine, heartfelt gesture? And gold did fit her better than silver… an almost royal impression—but Luxanna would never speak that aloud in front of her mother, lest she be ruthlessly criticised for her 'lacking taste in fashion'. Already at a loss for words, she was spared from coming up with a response by Selwyn's follow-up question.

"Who's your date then, Black?"

"You will soon see."

Upon exiting the dormitory, she felt her hand immediately snap to her lips, picking on them mercilessly, overwhelmed by the amount of students gathered around in the common room, all flashing colours, glitter and smiles. Had Alex not interrupted her, her lips surely would have started to bleed, and that would not have been a good look.

"You need to stop this bad habit of yours, you're torturing your poor lips."

"This is madness," muttered Luxanna, her eyes darting around the room. "This whole event is madness."

"Oh, come off it. The one who ought to be nervous is Potter, not you," said Alex, followed by a lighthearted chuckle. "I'll bet you he's going mad over there waiting— Imagine when he sees you? The poor bloke'll wet himself; you look like a goddess!"

"I need some time alone, Alex."

"Alright," said Alex in a low tone. Then he added, as enthusiastically as ever, "See you at the Entrance Hall, then. Be fashionably late!"

Luxanna went to the girl's lavatory on the second floor, and though she didn't enter the chamber this time, she still found some semblance of comfort in the cold, marble interior. Her hands gripped the sink in an effort to maintain composure; eyes shut, she inhaled and exhaled slowly, very slowly. But it was not much use; her anxiety was getting the better of her.

Asking Potter for help. It might have been the most impulsive idea she had yet had, but Luxanna was sick of it; sick of being terrified. Sick of the constant state of paranoia that constantly threatened to rip her apart. For years, she had endured being the daughter of a former Death Eater, being feared and hated by her peers. Enough with being terrorised by the looming threat that was Voldemort's shadow, haunting her entire nightmare of a life, there were also the petty things that took their toll, the small indignities, like Weasley's bullying and Selwyn's insidious gossip. All that had been enough, and then there was Potter, who evidently despised her, yet he was the only one who would understand. If Potter didn't share her concerns about You Know Who, she didn't know who would. He could protest all he wanted, but she only needed to have a word with him, to warn him about her suspicions, about Professor Moody, who occupied her mind relentlessly over the past few days.

It's for the greater good… for the greater good… Luxanna kept repeating to herself.

And yet...

"Are you alright, dear?" Frost looked at her from the mirror, worried.

Luxanna wasn't entirely sure she heard her, her mind was overwhelmed by her own senses, but she wrenched her eyes open nonetheless... and there was fear there. Fear, so evidently displayed in her eyes: pupils constricted, eyelids wide, eyebrows tense with an occasional flinch or tremor. Oh, how she hated it. The anxiety flared again, threatening to overtake her. Don't... She brought a hand up to her face, terrified to find that it was trembling.

You're fine, she tried to tell herself. "You're fine." She felt the lie in her own mouth as it cracked in her throat. She searched her mind for a rational, safe thought, one that would protect her from her ruthless mind but could only come up with: Calm. Think... Think. And each thought was bitter and tainted with panic, and each thought sent a new wave of panic coursing through her body. And it was no use, her body was doing the thinking for her; heart in her throat, she wanted to scream.

There was no sympathy left in her, not for anyone; not for herself, nor the lips chapped by her constant anxiety; nor the trembling of her own hands; nor the fingertips that dug into her palms painfully. Not how she would always find her way back to this room, how she would always find a way to hide from her problems. Stop it. Not the tear sliding down her cheek; nor the merciless nightmares—all testaments of her weakness—nor her own face shattered into a million pieces; nor the blood that was now trickling down her fist as she slid down to the floor, betrayed by her own body.

"Luxanna!" came Frost's voice, and were it not whispered right into her ear, she might have not heard it. Blinking her vision into focus, Luxanna was suddenly painfully aware of what she had just done. She held up the shaking hand before her, stained with blood and glass and watched—as if from another person's viewpoint—as the hand reached for the crumpled piece of tissue that was on the floor and swiped at the wound; the shards further digging into her knuckles and making her wince with pain.

Quickly... The trembling hand reached into her sleeve to draw her wand before the blood could spill on her robes. "Episkey." But it did not work. "Episkey..." Please... Was it the hoarseness of her voice, or the trembling of her fingers? The next wave, too, was rejected, and as Luxanna reached out again, her whole arm trembled in frustration. "What's wrong with me..." Before she could think of the next move, Frost had coiled herself around her hand and was using her little body to stifle the bleeding.

"Luksss, you are not alone…" whispered Frost, "I'm here, dear, I'm here."

Could she not manage even a simple healing charm? What if she needed to defend herself? What was going to happen in an actual duel where her life was threatened? Maybe you could hide in the bathroom again... offered her derisive mind. With that, Luxanna hurled her wand across the toilet, reeling with anger that coursed through her entire body. This fit of anger seemed to help return her senses to her. Anger was an emotion she knew well, not this theatrical display of sadness. Anger was a friend.

Disturbed by the clatter, Moaning Myrtle's white face peered from over the stall. She greeted the sight of Luxanna with a sneer on her face. "Here again?"

"Don't pretend you weren't watching," said Luxanna bitterly, glad to have somebody to snap back at.

Myrtle only crossed her arms on the top of the stall, leaning her head on her arm in a display of mock boredom. She giggled, saying, "Oh, you'll get used to it... Nobody came for me either."

Whatever Myrtle was trying to insinuate, Luxanna didn't have the patience to argue with a ghost; she ignored the jeering comment, instead choosing to focus on her bleeding hand. At least some semblance of normalcy: being mocked. It was not as if she wanted anyone to come for her, anyway. She decided she would not go to the hospital either, lest she be reminded of what happened the last time she was there.

Too bad pencil-eyebrow Selwyn isn't here, so I could ask for her tweezers, mused Luxanna, entertained by her own misery as she picked the shards of glass embedded in her skin like some idiot Muggle. How in the world did it come to this, anyway?

As more and more students filled the corridors, Luxanna slipped through the crowd with one goal in mind: Find Potter.

She spotted him some minutes later, all dressed in green, descending down the staircase. He avoided her gaze by fiddling with the sleeve of his robe when McGonagall quickly crossed the room to corner him.

"And where is your date, Potter?" she inquired.

"I—"

"Here," said Luxanna, stepping in place next to him before he could answer. A look of bewilderment flashed across McGonagall's face but all she said was, "Very well then." Then she instructed them to move in line with the other champions.

Luxanna felt a poke in her shoulder and turned to see Alex smiling down at her, dressed in a light blue Muggle-style suit and leading Antonio under his arm. She was glad for the friendly presence and conveyed it with a simple nod of her head. Potter, however, was still looking anywhere but at her, this prompted Luxanna to look around as well, scouring the crowd for red. If she were lucky and her little scheme was successful, even the Weasleys should be robbed of a date.

On cue, they moved into the room, pair by pair. The Great Hall had been transformed into a flurry of dazzling lights, splendidly contrasting the darkness of the night sky above, with stretches of mistletoe that hung from wall to wall. The long House tables were replaced by a number of smaller ones, covered in icy white cloth and displaying all kinds of delicacies. The most striking difference, however, was the space in the middle of the Hall, which Luxanna could only assume would be the dance floor.

Since it was the champions who would do the opening dance, she and Potter followed the other three by taking their own spot in the middle of the room. Potter was staring down at his shoes, a far cry from the blazing audacity he normally displayed. Luxanna tried to hide her irritation; they had not had the opportunity to speak privately yet.

She moved to take hold of Potter's hand, hoping that he would have the brain to take her waist. He did not. What must have made the situation even more awkward for the boy was the fact that his date was slightly taller than him, a realisation that occurred to Luxanna only now that they were standing toe to toe for the first time.

The music that played softly in the background felt rather grating on her nerves as they swayed together, Luxanna directing Potter this way or the other. With expectations so low that they were almost in line with Potter's capabilities, Luxanna found it amusing that she had still managed to be disappointed by his tactlessness; he kept glancing over at either Cho Chang or Hermione Granger, so much so that she couldn't help but feel guilty for whatever poor girl might romantically cross his path in the future.

As she waltzed with Potter through her own personal hell, she let her mind drift to the matters at hand; of life, and death. Of the mark, and of her father earlier that year. And Voldemort, and... Moody, and the masked face of the man who haunted her nightmares; were they one and the same? No, don't bring up Moody, he will think you've gone mad. It had to be true, it had to be—Voldemort was on the rise again. All this panic couldn't be for nothing... Don't let it be for nothing.

It was half way through the ordeal that Potter took notice of the bandage covering the hand that was resting on his shoulder. "What's that for?" was what he asked. Luxanna deliberated on selling him some pity story in hope that it might catch his attention and serve as an opener into the serious conversation she had to stop avoiding. But it was far too personal.

"No matter. Do you know why I asked you to the dance, Potter?" said Luxanna once the music began to die down.

"No."

She took a deep breath, bracing herself for a potential childish outburst. Who was she to speak after today, though?

"It's important, it's... It has to do with… You Know Who," she whispered close to his ear, masquerading the act as a part of their dance; there were too many people standing very close to them now. At the sound of her words, or maybe the proximity of their situation, Potter immediately pulled away from her.

"What about him?" he asked after a moment.

"I believe that he is planning his return," said Luxanna firmly, not taking her gaze off him.

"Oh, and you'd know, would you?" Here we go... "What with your father being a..."

"Say it."

"A Death Eater," he whispered, his voice dripping with disdain.

"That is in the past. And unfortunately for you, words of advice won't always come pouring from the mouths of your dearest and most trustworthy friends. You," she continued, speaking down on him as if to a child, "ought to learn to respect the words of others, even your adversaries. Especially your adversaries. Because sometimes, Potter, it may be the best advice you'll receive. Did it ever occur to you that I, the Death Eater's daughter, might be privy to some quite useful information?"

"What, like how to best torture a Pygmy Puff?" taunted Potter, earning him an internal eye roll from his date. "How do I know you're not lying? Biding time for him, or something?"

"You don't," said Luxanna simply. The clenching of her teeth was giving her a headache and her knuckles were becoming white with frustration; she was growing impatient. "But why not hear what I have to say before you decide?"

"No, alright? I don't want your opinion, or your advice for that matter," declared Potter, ending their dance, and their conversation abruptly. "Not after what you did! You're the reason Ron doesn't have a date, you're the reason that Fred and George—"

"Oh, don't you dare!" snapped Luxanna, the fury of today returning to her in an instant. "Don't you dare!" You absolute child, Potter, you idiot! Her feet were aching as she chased after him, and she would be surprised to find they were not full of blisters, having suffered at the hands of his abysmal dancing skills."How is this more important to you than... than..."

Speak of the fucking devil, thought Luxanna as a pair of dishevelled twins stumbled through from the garden door. They were both in their school uniforms, looking rather breathless. The lack of dress robes was staggering against the elegance of the room and it was enough to catch the attention of a couple of nearby students, who were pointing and giggling in amusement. Potter took this moment of distraction to hare off in the direction of the Entrance Hall.

Not sparing even another glance, she trailed past the crowd of dancing students—all merged together in one undulating wave of motion, the noise a cacophony in her head—until she reached Potter. The Entrance Hall, too, was bursting with people, yet nobody seemed to pay them any attention.

"You come back here! Right now!" she yelled. Potter didn't turn around to face her, but he must have heard the thundering of her voice, because he stopped in his tracks. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for another bout of verbal bickering, then crossed over and gripped Potter by the shoulders as means of compelling him to listen to reason.

"It's the Mark. The Dark Mark, Potter… You were at the Cup, weren't you?" He nodded. "So you saw it. Not long after that, my father felt the mark burn on his forearm. How can you deny it? He's planning his return, and he needs you, Potter, he will come for you. He will come here, to school. And we'll all be in danger, don't you understand?"

"He can't come to Hogwarts, it's too safe," muttered Potter before wrenching away from her grip. "Why do you even care, anyway? What's it to you?"

"It's everything to me..." said Luxanna quietly. "And there's one more thing, it's... Professor Moody, I think he's in on it." She couldn't believe her own words. Moody was maybe the only teacher so far who had been friendly with her, and she would throw caution to the wind and discard his benevolence just like that... For what? The accusation was baseless, her suspicions rooted in paranoid conjecture. She was going off on feeling alone.

"You think Moody's a..." he lowered his voice to a cautious whisper, but his tone was near humorous, "A Death Eater? Are you mad?"

"Look, I have my suspicions," said Luxanna as she searched for a more secluded place to speak. "I want you to be careful. I'm quite worried, alright? Don't trust anybody, you never know who might be involved."

Her condescending tone might have been the straw that broke the camel's back because Potter snapped back with such finality that Luxanna jolted in surprise, "Don't you lecture me! I don't want to hear any of this from you, okay? You're the one that can't be trusted. And if you're so worried, maybe you should go ahead and ask your wonderful father for a spot on their side, that way I'm sure nobody will touch you." He pushed his hands in his pockets and began to walk away from her. She didn't have time to protest. She took a step after him, to block his way; in turn, Potter stopped and shot her a withering look.

'Pointless' was the word that best summed up her futile attempts to persuade him. This whole evening: Pointless. The spoiled little brat... It took everything that was left of her will to control her tongue and the hand that might have been slowly snaking towards her wand. "Can't you use your brain for once?!" she shouted, her hands curling into fists at her side. Potter did not answer, he merely tilted his head in amusement, but that didn't stop her. "You, as a champion of a fourth... imaginary school when the goblet was set for only three—"

"Oh, I see now!"

"—you see that this is a trap, Potter! Someone wants to harm you, kill you! The first task was Dragons—"

"—jealous you weren't the one to defeat a bloody dragon after all—"

"Merlin, Potter, somebody put your name in that goblet and it's someone who's powerful enough to trick it into thinking there are four schools—someone who is working for Him, and the fact that this person might be roaming around the castle walls… Hogwarts is not safe—"

"Enough!" Shouted Potter, stopping Luxanna from her frantic rumbling. His eyes darkened, and when he spoke it was in a deadly tone. "You've finally lost it, haven't you?"

Luxanna didn't answer, taken aback.

"I mean… I've seen you muttering to yourself in the corridors, whispering… Merlin knows what… curses? Practising curses to set upon Muggles and Muggleborns, is that it?"

"What?"

"Do you know what everyone calls you?" Potter paused for a moment—for the first time in that evening allowing her a word, but Luxanna was speechless. He continued, "A lunatic. How do you expect me to believe your words? You're delusional."

Her tears were no longer under her own control once out of the Great Hall and into the garden; she sat on a bench at the edge of the cliff, sobbing her pain away. All the bottled up feelings she had accumulated since the day that she met her father came bursting out all at once. She swallowed the cries, the scorch in her throat almost unbearable.

Potter hadn't listened to a word. The only person who could have taken her side in this madness thought her a lunatic. How could he? How could the one person forever under You Know Who's threat shrug off her warnings without a second thought, when he himself knew the lengths that You Know Who had gone to to seize him? What was she supposed to do now? Bide time until the disaster unfolds before her? Her father said to not worry and to just enjoy the evening. How could she? How?

How could he be so purposely oblivious, as to not take a life threatening warning coming his way, only because it was uttered from her lips?

No, not this again… Luxanna thought, breathing heavily, feeling disoriented and dizzy, her fingers digging into her palm making her wince in pain. She had forgotten the wound on her hand; the handkerchief was now red from the fresh wound that tore itself open under the edge of her nails.

She was about to untie the knot when the last person she wanted to see at that moment appeared in front of her. Weasley. He stared her down with a wary expression on his face, from the stains of the tears that had dried on her cheeks to the blood staining her palm. She quickly wiped her face, then slid her hand inside her coat's sleeve.

"Would you mind? I want to be alone," she hurriedly said with as much confidence as she could muster, before moving away in search of a different bench.

But he still followed her.

"Why? Where's Harry? What happened? Why'd you take him as your date?" he asked all at once.

"Oh, just go away, already! I don't have time nor patience for your bullshit!" she spat out, the anger hot on her tongue.

She hardly ever swore like that, and clearly it took him by surprise, for he raised his voice in response.

"Why? Are you plotting another revenge plan of yours?"

"Go. Away."

"Angry that your sly little plan didn't work? Funny how karma works, isn't it?"

"Leave… or I will be your karma," said Luxanna, spinning around to face him, wand clutched firmly in her hand. There were tears burning in her eyes.

"Does every conversation with you end up with a wand pointed at my face?"

She sucked in a shaky breath before speaking. "Why don't you just leave me alone already and go back to whoever your date is, hmm?"

Weasley cast a quick glance over his shoulder before taking another step towards Luxanna.

"I'm not going anywhere until you answer my question. Why did you take Harry as your date?"

"Why does it matter to you? It's none of your business who my date is. Or are you jealous?" she taunted. "You don't like Angelina after all?"

"I'm not Fred."

"Do I look like I give a fuck about who you are? You're both the same to me. The same, annoying, nosy shits who think themselves better than everyone else, who don't care one bit about anything but themselves."

As she clutched the wand tighter between her fingers the blood squeezed out of her wound, a few drops spilling onto the ground and distracting her for a moment. Weasley took the opportunity to seize her wand by taking hold of her wrist.

"Let go of me!" she screamed out.

The pain made her squeeze her eyelids shut and the tears that had been on the verge of spilling now flowed freely down her cheeks, which were red from shame. Nobody should have ever seen her in this state. Nobody.

"You're bleeding," Weasley said, his voice quieter than before. "I didn't take you for the careless type."

"And I didn't take you for the caring type."

"I know, I…"

"You know nothing, Weasley."

After a moment of hesitation, he reached into his robe and drew his wand, while Luxanna tried to free herself from his grasp in vain. The strength of his grip surprised her, suddenly sparking an uneasy intimidation that spread throughout her entire body, making it feel light and weightless. Nobody dared to grip her this confidently before.

The weightlessness turned into a helpless panic when Weasley began to untie the messy bandage, before whispering a quiet 'Episkey,' to mend the cut, the tip of his wand barely grazing her skin.

No, this was worse than fear. This… helplessness, the prospect of being vulnerable in front of the last person you wanted to see you in such a state. Luxanna wanted to scream, to fight, to push him away with all of her strength. But there was no strength left, only a tired resolution that made her succumb to the situation like the pathetic mess that she was.

Feeling a fresh wave of tears sliding down her face, Luxanna's eyes met the ground in an attempt to hide the sight from him. His grip on her softened when he noticed, now caressing her palm almost kindly… and a surge of white hot anger came unbidden to her. She remembered the thick fingers caressing her face, disgustingly burning every cell they touched… the animalistic look she knew was locked away behind a mask, the smirk in his voice…

Luxanna recoiled, unlocking her wrist from his hold, pulse throbbing in her forehead and her ears.

"Don't ever touch me again. Didn't I already warn you?"

The previously calm expression on Weasleys's face had been traded away for a frown. "That's what I get for tending to your wound? I was trying to be nice for once and—"

"Nice? You? Nice?! Are you serious? I don't think you could be nice if your life depended on it. What is it that you want anyway? You want to know why I asked Potter to the ball? Err, I don't know, maybe I fancy his scar and stupid hair. Maybe I had something important to discuss with him, something that most certainly doesn't concern you. Or maybe it's because I thought he'd have more tact than some of you Gryffindors. Turns out I was wrong. Ever heard of that phrase? Admitting that you were wrong?"

"Oh, rubbish! You're plotting something vile again, I know what you did to those girls in the hospital. I know you did it so that Harry'd have to go with you— I know that's also why you told Triss Selwyn that you and I—"

"That you and I what? Date? Boohoo... I bet all the girls who swoon over you are now just mildly weak in the knees instead."

"No, that's not the point! You've been going around spreading lies about me and now Skeeter's caught on, and— All that rubbish inside that disgusting magazine, which my bloody mother reads, has gone public and everyone believes it! Can you fucking imagine?! They question me! My brother! My friends!"

Luxanna snorted. "Some friends you've got."

"And it's fucking ridiculous! My mother's here at school looking to whip me for doing… things… to you and I"—he sucked in a sharp breath—"would never, ever go out with somebody like you! I wouldn't be caught dead with you."

"Then why don't your friends believe you?"

"I don't know!" He threw his arms up in disbelief. "They... they..."

"I'll tell you why, Weasley," said Luxanna. "It's because you are a liar."

"Oh, me? What about you, huh?! Lying is your whole bloody personality! You manipulate, cheat, and lie, and lie—"

"Lie? I don't lie, or was that not Veritaserum you slipped into my drink?"

His mouth twitched, primed for a retort which never came. She could not see the result of his expression; he had turned his back on her and was walking around slowly, rubbing his forehead in thought.

"Nothing to say?" asked Luxanna, internally scolding herself for even expecting a reply.

Bloody typical.

She turned on her heel and was about to make her escape when a rustle from a nearby bush caught her attention. She halted in her step, eyes narrowed and ears tuned to the noise, when a set of black curls and very thin eyebrows flashed across her vision for the briefest of moments.

Selwyn.

She had been watching them, probably listening to every word. Luxanna tried to recount every line of conversation that had passed between her and Weasley; would she realise it was all a fluke? This was bad… Or was it? Luxanna's mind spun.

I don't need him anymore… or do I?

Without further thought, Luxanna called out to him. As he spun around, she quickly took the chance to slide her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest and catching him by surprise. Despite his heartbeat quickening, he stood still, very still. Frozen in place.

Over the shoulder which she was resting her head on, Luxanna could see Alicia Spinnet standing under an archway in the garden, her jaw slack and her eyebrows drawn in the most prominent of frowns Luxanna had ever seen. Did she by any chance fancy George Weasley…?

Entirely absorbed with this question, Luxanna failed to notice the shuffle of Weasley's arms until they were, against all sensible expectations, firmly resting around her back.