The Little Things that Matter

Butterbeer and Onion Soup

Disclaimer: Nothing Harry Potter belongs to me.

Title: The Little Things that Matter

Challenge: All Aboard the Love Boat

Paring: Luna Lovegood and George Weasley

Prompt: Butterbeer and Onion Soup

Five months BD

Why is it that people always got sick during the holidays?

This is what George thought to himself as he sneezed violently, trying to bury himself deeper into the covers. He hated being sick, absolutely dreaded it. It was the worst thing that could possibly happen to a guy, especially if he was a business owner.

Of course, it was his own fault for challenging Ron, Charlie, and Bill to a late night Quidditch game on Christmas and kept playing even after it started to snow. The other three boys were sick too though and that was George's only joy to his misery right now. . . .

Unless you counted Luna.

Even now and then, he could hear bustling and rustling from her in the kitchen, humming to herself. For a moment, he had thought his mum were in the kitchen.

Except for the smell.

Luna was a good cook, he admitted, but whatever she was cooking right then was making his eyes water. His voice was practically gone and so he couldn't call out to her.

But she had been particularly thoughtful to him today. When he had stumbled down the stairs to the shop that morning, she had immediately sent him back to bed, taking the shop into her own hands for the day. Of course, he still went down to check on her and she came up to check on him, only she threatened to confine him to the bed if he kept getting up.

And so for the last couple of hours he had laid there, part of the time sleep, part of the time reading some old magazines he found under his bed, and the other part of the time was spent staring at the pictures Luna had drawn onto his wall.

Moments later, Luna was backing into his room, a tray in her hands containing a cup of warm butterbeer and a bowl of whatever that fowl stuff was that she had cooked.

"What is that?" George muttered, pulling the covers above his nose.

"Something that's good for you," Luna said, setting the bowl on his bedside table. "Onion soup."

"What's the butterbeer for then?"

"To wash down the taste of onion."

George wrinkled his nose, pulling the covers up over his head. "I won't eat it."

"You have to, it's good for you," Luna said, tugging on his covers.

"I don't like onions."

"Too bad. You're going to eat it whether you like it or not."

"I will not."

"You will too."

"I won't."

"You will."



"How do you expect me to eat anything, Luna? My throat feels swollen, I can't breathe . . . plus I'm so weak I can barely lift my arms, let alone a spoon."

"Fine than I'll feed you."

George poked his head out from under his covers. "Feed me? Are you kidding?"

Grinning, Luna picked up the spoon and said, "Open wide. Here comes the Hogwarts Express."

"You're not serious, are you?"

"You're going to act like a baby, I'm going to treat you like a baby. Now, open wide for the choo choo train."

George clenched his lips together, shaking his head.

Luna frowned. "It's either this or I charm the spoon to feed you, and it won't stop until all the soup is gone. Now open wide."

Feeling completely and totally mortified, George opened his mouth, nearly gagging as he tasted the soup for the first time. It wasn't all bad, he realized, but still, the act of being fed as if he were an infant was embarrassing. Of course, it was his fault for being so stubborn but he never expected Luna to feed him.

Still . . . he had to admit he didn't mind Luna taking care of him. Actually, it was kind of . . . nice. He was just glad Luna didn't hum to him as if he actually were a child. That would have just been horrible.

And so they sat there like that, Luna feeding him and him still feeling sick and childish, with his ears (well ear) all red but it was alright.

"There now," Luna said, dropping the spoon back into the bowl. "Here, drink this. I'm going to go put this in the kitchen."

George sipped on the butterbeer, watching her leave with the tray. He wondered, after everything, what it was that made Luna so nice to him all the time. Ever since she had started working in the shop, she hadn't complained one bit and simply accepted him with open arms, even though he hadn't done the same for her.

But, of course, then he had been going through what Muggles called Survival's Guilt, or something.

Luna came back in, lying down on the other side of the bed, running her fingers through George's hair where his ear was missing. George blanched pulling the covers up to his forehead again. "Don't do that," he mumbled.

"What?" Luna said, pulling the covers down again. "You can't possibly still be self-conscious of your ear can you?"

"It's not that I'm self conscious. . . . It just – it still kind of bugs me you know?"


George shrugged, twiddling with a lose string on his comforted. "Did you know that I was jealous of Fred for a moment?"

"Whatever for?"

"Well . . . I mean, we were supposed to be twins right? Everything about us was supposed to be the same, from our hair to our feet and – after I lost my ear, I was mad. . . . Because we didn't look alike anymore . . . because I kept asking myself why my ear had to get blasted off and not his . . . or, why couldn't it have just been both of our ears. . . . And, not that I'm vain or anything, I just didn't like the way I look anymore . . . like my head was lopsided or something. It just seems petty now, after what Fred went through. . . . I mean, here I was worrying about looking good and Fred . . . well you know."

"Well, I happen to think that you are very handsome, George Weasley, one ear or not."

George looked over at her to see that she was gazing at him, a small smile on her face.

He should just kiss her now. . . .

Wait, what?

George turned a horrible shade of red, ducking under his covers again. "What time is it?" he asked, knowing full well that it was time to reopen the shop.

Luna giggled, as if she understood why he was so embarrassed. The bed shifted as she moved and he listened for her soft steps as she left the room and headed back downstairs. "Told you the onion soup would bring some color back to your face," she called back, still laughing.

Heaving a huge sigh of relief, George peeked out of his covers.

He should just kiss her now?

Where on earth had that come from?

A/N: I'm sorry it's taken me forever to update. Thanks all for being patient and stay tuned for next time.

Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered book publisher, offering an online community for talented authors and book lovers. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books you love the most based on crowd wisdom.