She looked like a girl from a magazine.
Neville, are you crazy?
No. No, it's true. She looked like a girl from a magazine. Clear skin, bright eyes. Hair like sunshine. Slender.
Completely unapproachable.
No, he told himself, Neville Longbottom, you are not crazy. He gaped helplessly across the Great Hall. He could not help himself, she was so lovely. Luna Lovegood, what has Summer done to you? It was so wrong, Neville thought, to be contemplating a friend's loveliness when the world was in such turmoil. It was especially bad when the turmoil was so, so close to home.
He tore his eyes away from Luna, and looked up at the faculty table and frowned angrily.
So, so close to home indeed.
It was the start of the year feast. No one was eating. No one felt like it. Neville didn't feel like it. He couldn't stomach anything.
His gaze flicked back to Luna. She wasn't eating either. Not really. She had her fork half-way in her mouth, chewing, with a slight smile on her face, leaning her head into her hand. She was staring right at him. He breathed in sharply, and choked on the sip of pumpkin juice he had just taken. He saw her giggle, and look down. Then up. Then down. Neville felt his cheeks grow hot, and quickly began forking carrots into his mouth. Tasteless carrots. Orange carrots.
"Carroty oranges," a light voice whispered into his ear. A laugh.
Neville froze. A strand of blonde hair fell across his shoulder, brushed his face lightly. He knew exactly who was standing behind him. "'Lo Luna," he choked out. He still had chewed carrot in his mouth. Classy.
"Neville Longbottom," she trilled softly. "How was your summer?"
Such a highly inappropriate question, Neville thought. He felt like he was about to melt, I am such a woman. "It was…" He turned around to face at her. She looked soft. "Great, thanks." He grinned. "How was yours?"
"I'm happy to be back," she said, and stared at him. Her elbow twitched. She leaned in, and quickly kissed the corner of his mouth. In a way, it did answer the question. Neville stared, completely petrified. Whether from fright or happiness, or something else, he did not know. Before he could find his voice, she had gone.
I've missed you, Neville.
