Hello! Normally I would put this in my Drabbles and Shorts series, but I quite liked this as a stand alone piece.

This was for a writing challenge that I did with my lovelies, and we ended up posting our various ones on tumblr.

The challenge was based off of a post with a list of several words and their meanings, then we each got a word and one of us picked two possible pairings for the others. Anyways, this is the result of mine. I hope you enjoy it!

My word was Redamancy which means Act of loving in return.

Please leave a review :)

My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, only the story line belongs to me.

Pointless. Meaningless. Everything in his life that used to make sense was now a garbled mess. His life now consisted of jumbled moments strung together on a tangled string, where it all seemed dull, the world was no longer as bright and vibrant as it once had been. It had once been so full of potential. George Weasley used to feel like the entire world was at his fingertips, just waiting for him to explore and experience; with his best friend and his twin at his side.

It was no longer shiny, exciting. The world was harsh, cruel, and the very air he breathed to survive felt tainted, poisoned, like he was constantly breathing in smoke. A heavy weight rested on his chest during his every waking moment, with every small intake of breath he took.

Having Lee around helped most times, but whenever they cracked a decent joke, they would turn in search of their third partner in crime, and his absence was a cold, resounding reminder that he would never be there to make another joke with them.

His parents meant well, especially his Mother. Molly tried, she did. She thought since she was in pain she would be able to empathise with him, understand what he was going through. Though he knew their pain was nowhere near the same. She had suffered the heart-wrenching pain of losing her son, a piece of her heart irrevocably damaged. He had lost part of his soul.

Ron surprised him the most. He stepped up to the plate, and immediately began helping his older brother run his business. The days George didn't feel like leaving the flat he and Fred had shared above the joke shop, lying motionless on his sheets, legs half tangled in sheets as he stared up at the ceiling, hearing Fred's laughter ringing in his ears; Ron took over, he dealt with his grief differently. Ron worked tirelessly, keeping himself busy-barely stopping to rest, eat, drink-if he didn't then his mind would wander; and from the glassy-eyed look George had seen in those rare moments, he knew that Ron thought of Fred in those quiet stretches of time, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

George appreciated all the support he got, especially from Harry and Hermione. They were always around, and they helped heal his family. Knit the torn pieces back together again. Harry and Hermione were like a surprise shower in the middle of the spring, washing away the past and giving them a new beginning. Harry still blamed himself for all the deaths in the war, and his curly haired friend was slowly helping heal the wounds the boy had inflicted upon himself, and the even greater ones that had been inflicted upon him. Yet as he stared out of the window of his room on a morning, red bangs hanging in his eyes-the window panes slightly foggy-he couldn't help but feel hollow, alone, broken.

Then she came back from the trip she had gone on with her Father after the war. They had gone in search of some rare creatures in the Scottish Highlands after receiving a tip from one of her Father's old colleagues.

She had floated into his shop-on one of his better days-long, crinkly pale blonde hair blowing behind her. She flipped his dull, various shades of muted, boring colours world on its' head. A bright, glowing light seemed to cling to her, to wrap her from the inside out.

He had been restocking some Puking Pastilles up on the top floor, balancing on a rickety, short, metal ladder. Which he almost tripped on the bottom rung as he climbed down, almost entranced as he followed her with his eyes.

Luna Lovegood skipped towards him, dirigible plum earrings bouncing around, several plain, thin and simple rings on her right index finger, and she was wearing bright yellow leggings, a navy blue camisole and a white cardigan; and for whatever reason, she wasn't wearing any shoes. Her toes were smudged with dirt, and she wriggled them around on his hardwood floors when she finally stopped in front of him. Silvery blue eyes looking dazed, yet piercing straight into his soul, as if she was fixing the jagged edges that had been ripped to shreds when he felt his twin die.

"Why hello George," Luna greeted airily. "I thought I ought to come and tell you this. Redamancy."

"Reda-wha?" George frowned in confusion, brow drawn together as he tried to figure out exactly what was happening.

"Redamancy," Luna smiled brightly. "I'll see you next week Friday," she announced with a slight tilt of her head before she spun on her heel and skipped away.

"What the bloody hell was that?" George wondered aloud to himself, his right foot sharply hitting into the ladder that he had completely forgotten about, stubbing his big toe. "F-"

Once a week, George would see her. Sometimes she came to the shop, or like that first Friday she had mentioned, he bumped into her at random places, like in Muggle London as he headed towards the park for some time on his own.

Seasons passed, and her visits got longer, her odd mannerisms that seemed to bother everyone else, were only endearing to him. How frank she was, how she drank her tea with a splash of milk, but never any sugar. She did however like to keep sugar cubes in her pockets in case she came across anything that had a sweet tooth. Once she had put a sugar cube in Ron's palm after he had stormed into the shop, a light pat on his head and telling him that he had done his best; the perplexed, confused expression on Ron's face had been priceless.

Some days she wore shoes, some days she didn't. Often she went for a happy medium and wore multi-coloured socks. Which of course drove Ginny up a wall, insisting that her good friend wear the bright red wellies she gifted her for Christmas when the weather was 'as shit as it has been recently.'

The pain of losing his brother was always there, it was the first thing that he thought of in the morning, and the last thing he thought about before he drifted off to sleep at night, but it was no longer unbearable. It was manageable, an ache in his chest that never went away, but he didn't feel like he was drowning anymore. He didn't feel as if he was sinking below the surface, his eyes blurring out of focus as he watched the water's surface ripple, a small source of light shining above him, fading as he sank, his hand outstretched as if to try and break the surface before the darkness consumed him.

Luna's hand had plunged into the water and pulled him out, gasping for air to fill his water logged lungs as he fell into her warm embrace.

A constant, peaceful, warm presence that brought the colour back into his world.

Her light, tinkling laugh, like a wind chime gently blowing in the breeze filled his heart, her creative, unique way of thinking filled his mind, igniting the urge to experiment like he used to with Fred. Her slender pale fingers traced the contours of his body, never lingering on the scars, but not shying away from them either. Luna filled his soul, or what was left of it at least. He would never be able to replace his brother, but he didn't feel as alone anymore. She had helped him come back to life, he had been living, but he hadn't been feeling.

"I think I love you, Luna Lovegood," George whispered to her one night, under the stars on his balcony, arms loosely wrapped around her waist as he leaned against the railing.

"That's lovely, George," Luna had replied, a prim smile on his face as she tiptoed and gently kissed his lips, her thumb tenderly stroking the mangled remnants of his ear.

"I think we should have some pudding to celebrate, don't you?" She had giggled with those big eyes of hers, tapping his nose softly before skipping away.

That night, as he fell asleep, his larger body cradling her smaller one in his arms, her hands fisted against his chest, he swore he heard a soft voice say, "I love you too." He had a large grin spread across his face as he slept that night.

"Lu," George frowned, lip pursed as the small witch daintily sat down in his lap, her fingers tracing an absent pattern on his thigh.

"Yes, George?" Luna asked, some of her hair falling in her eyes when she looked up at him.

"Why did you say 'Redamancy' when you came into the shop that day?" George cocked his head to the side, genuinely curious.

"Act of loving in return," Luna hummed, her lips curled upwards a touch, a sad but knowing look in the eyes he had grown to adore, and love.

George waited, sensing that perhaps she was going to say something else.

"Do we have any peanut butter? I think it's time to put some on the flower pot outside, the pixies like it, so they won't eat the flowers," Luna said instead, tilting her face up and rubbing her nose against his before hopping off his lap. Humming a cheery tune as she skipped enthusiastically to the kitchen.

George shook his head in amusement. One thing was for certain, he loved Luna Lovegood, she was his colour.