Frozen Warm
by Bil!

K – Neville/Luna – Romance – Oneshot

Summary: As she searches for ice sprites Luna could be taken for an ice sprite herself, Neville thinks, all pale and white and light as thistledown.

Disclaimer: JKR's characters. Just... extrapolating.

A/N: The end of the DH movie had Neville/Luna. This came out of left field for me, so it stuck with me. ...And then I wrote fic.

Prompt: "I wanted to be warm".


There's a heavy frost that morning. Luna says it's perfect weather for frost atronachs and so they go out before breakfast to have a look. Neville's never heard anyone else talk about frost atronachs but that's normal for Luna so he just puts on a warm cloak and follows her outside. The frost is so thick it's almost like a light dusting of snow, and while the air is fiercely nipping and makes him thrust his gloved hands deep into his pockets, the sun is peeping over the horizon in preparation for taking charge of a completely clear sky; the orange-gold lights of sunrise dance glittering over the white frost and change the colour of the grass for a moment when he turns his head.

Luna skips over the lawn so lightly she barely leaves a trail. Neville trudges along behind her, leaving two irregular lines of dark grass in the glistening paleness of the frost, ruining the pristine cleanness of the ice. He looks back on his trail and feels kind of bad for that, but at the same time there's something artistic in the lines across the pale. Something that speaks of loneliness, maybe, except that he's with Luna and it's very hard to feel lonely when Luna's around.

She beams at him and says, "Maybe we'll see some ice sprites too! Or Jokul, he likes to come out in the frosts." Neville looks at her, her pale face and wide eyes framed by the white, fur-lined hood of her cloak, eager enthusiasm written across her face. She could be an ice sprite, he thinks, all pale and white and light as thistledown. If Jokul came across them now, he might take her for his kin and whisk her away from the clumsy humans.

So they cross the lawn, she like a dancing sprite and he like the clumsy human he is, but she doesn't seem to mind that that's what he is, so Neville decides he doesn't mind either. And maybe someone so ethereal and airy as Luna needs someone as solid and down to earth as him so that she doesn't blow away. That makes him feel better. Anyway, she asked him to come along on her search, and that means a lot. The feeling that someone wants him around is warming and wards off the cold bite in the air.

It is cold, though. Any time they stop moving his feet start freezing and he's wishing he'd worn another cloak. Still, Luna is smiling and they don't stop moving too often, so it's okay. If it only wasn't so cold, Neville thinks, he wouldn't want this morning to end. He wishes he had something to put on his nose, though. He tries covering it with a gloved hand to warm it up, but that only works as long as he keeps his hand there. Luna doesn't seem to notice the cold. Maybe that's because she dances around so much, inspecting the grass, inspecting the bushes, going on tip-toes to check that the movement in a tree was just a bird and not one of her fantastical creatures. Neville likes the way she's never disappointed, how repeated failure only seems to make her more certain. She has a buoyant optimism he lacks and he likes it.

If only it wasn't so cold. He hunches his shoulders and pretends he isn't shivering. But Luna notices anyway. "You could go inside if you'd rather," she tells him.

"No," he says without thinking. "I like it here."

She comes closer, studying him. "Really?"

"Really," he says, even though his teeth are chattering.

And then she's very close, because she's pressing her lips to his, her skin cold and soft against his, and suddenly Neville feels very very warm.

"Wh-what did you do that for?" he stammers when she pulls back.

Luna tilts her head to one side and smiles at him. "My lips were cold," she explains. Then she holds out her hand. "Come on, let's see if the south lawn will be better."

Neville takes her hand. He weaves his fingers between hers, and doesn't let go.

Fin