Post-Its

Every day she leaves me a Post-It.

You know - one of those Muggle sticky things that come in all those weird colors and shapes? She loves them. There is always one on the mirror, one on the shower nozzle, one on the refrigerator... you get the idea. Her job at The Quibbler makes it impossible for me to see her in the morning and my job at the Ministry makes it impossible to see her at night, so we use Post-Its to say what we can't during the day. This is a tradition that we started almost three years ago, and she goes all out when it comes to the morning Post-Its.

We've been dating since her last year. At Dumbledore's insistence, half of my class stayed back to teach in the safety of the castle while Voldemort ran wild outside. Yes, I said his name. He's really dead now, we're positive. Halfway through the year, Voldemort managed to break into the castle to get Harry. Lucky for us, though, Harry was ready. Harry taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, Hermione taught Arithmancy, Ron helped Madam Hooch with the Quidditch games and I helped Professor Sprout in Herbology. We got jobs outside the castle after Voldemort's fall: Harry and Ron as professional Quidditch players, Hermione as an Unspeakable and I as an Auror. How I ever passed is beyond me.

Anyway, about Luna...

We dated on and off for a year and a half before I asked her to move in with me. It's hard to believe that was two years ago, but when you look around, it's obvious. We didn't immediately rush into marriage like Ron and Hermione, who are on their fourth child; or start dating fresh out of school like Harry and Ginny, who got married two years ago and have a little one and another on the way. Nope; Luna and I took it slow.

I've never had much luck with relationships. Luna is the first woman who didn't immediately dismiss me as a klutz or an 'I only want to be friends' guy. She used to hang around after classes ended, and while I'd be cleaning up she would go on about her trips to Scandinavia to find those Crumpled Hornbacks, whatever those things were. After the Final Battle, however, she withdrew from everyone, and it was then that I realized that I missed having her around, no matter how annoying she could get sometimes.

Our first kiss was during her last day at Hogwarts. I had followed her out to the lake. She had just been standing there, staring out over the water. I had walked up next to her, and without warning, she turned to face me and kissed me. I had been so dumbstruck that it didn't fully register until she had broken it off. I remember how she had looked up at me, confused. Cautiously, I then reached for her hand and she started smiling. I'd never seen her so happy.

My alarm clock has gone off for the second time this evening and I'm still tired. I didn't get much sleep last night - or this morning; whatever you want to call it - and Luna still isn't home. Usually, we have a good fifteen minutes together before my alarm goes off the first time. I guess she probably took overtime.

Reluctantly, I drag myself out of bed and sulk into the bathroom to shower. I pull the purple Post-It off the mirror and scanned it.

She's signed it with this little flounce she always uses; it's like a curved line with a hole in it. I've watched her do it a million times, but I've never figured out how she makes it look like that. When I open the shower door, I find another one, this time in pink.

A lot of things she says don't make sense, but that's one of the reasons why I love her. For example, I have no idea if the 'double-billed snapdragon' exists, but she's so certain that it does and that someday, she'll find it, that I can't help but believe that right along with her. Without saying anything, she makes me do things I'd never normally do.

After the shower, I step out and open the medicine cabinet to get my shaving cream. Another pink Post-It.

This one is always on my can of shaving cream. I always put one on hers, saying something about her hairy legs, and we call it even.

I walk into the kitchen, not surprised to see the flurry of multicolored Post-Its adorning our counters and appliances. Today must be a pink day because most of the Post-Its are pink. Sometimes she color-codes the days, but usually she just bustles around, slapping them on whatever surfaces they'll stick to.

I peel the one off the carton of milk and sit at the table, reading the ones sticking to the surface of the table while drinking from the carton, even though the note specifically tells me not to. Whoops.

I pull up each one carefully, reading them before pitching them into the rubbish bin. Now it's my turn to write the notes. This is probably the best time of the day for me.

After spreading the notes around the flat, I pull my shirt and pants on (left side first), grab an extra tie and my work robes before scribbling another one and putting it on the counter.