Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This story is meant purely in tribute to the original work.

Neville Longbottom rolled over in his bed and brought his arm over to drape across his wife. Only his arm didn't meet soft, warm skin but cool bed sheets. The sensation brought him out of the realm of languid, half-slumber and fully into the realm of consciousness. Neville's eyes blinked a few times to clear out the remaining drowsiness and his head lifted off his pillow to glance around the bedroom. She was not in the bedroom. Neville rose from the bed to search for something expedient to put on. He settled on a shirt that featured some chemical's molecular structure (He couldn't remember which) he found lying about and his pajama bottoms. The open bathroom open door indicated that his wife was not there. There was no light coming from beneath the closed closet door but he checked in there anyways. Past experience had taught him that it was prudent to check as you could not rule out anything when it came to his wife's somewhat eccentric behavior. Of course, by this point, it was normal to him even though just about everyone else still considered it eccentric. As Neville left the bedroom and entered the hallway, he became aware of the sounds of music. As he listened, he determined that it seemed to be coming from the kitchen. The distinct smell of breakfast cooking was also drifting down the hallway to him. As Neville entered the kitchen, he was able to identify the smells coming from the stove as French toast. He also finally located his wife.

Luna Longbottom sometimes employed magic to cook meals, particularly if she was busy and time was at a premium. Sometimes though, she enjoyed cooking manually as she enjoyed it. It gave her a particular sense of accomplishment and she felt that food cooked this way just seemed to taste better. And especially on lazy weekend mornings like this, she liked to do it just because. Neville watched his wife moving pieces of battered bread to the pan as she sang along to a song playing on the radio. It had to be a Muggle song, there was something distinct in the melody about it. The song featured a high-pitched female voice and a pop-ish tune about girls just wanting to have fun or something like that. It also sounded like there was an electronic instrument in the background that burbled and beeped. "What did Muggles call those things again?", Neville thought, "Synthesizers wasn't it? Electronic wizardry." It wasn't something Neville could recall listening to and something about the song sounded a bit dated. But he had to admit that there was something catchy about it and he found a foot moving along with the beat after only a few moments. Neville wasn't quite sure if Luna was listening to a Muggle station or one of the wizarding stations that occasionally played Muggle songs. There seemed to be more of those around lately. At any rate, he stopped wondering as he took in what his wife was wearing.

Neville recognized the sweatshirt that Luna was wearing as one of his own. It was a little large on him but on her smaller frame, it was large enough to reach down to her upper thighs. The sleeves were far too long but Luna had them securely rolled up and clear of the hazards and messes of cooking. One side of the collar of the sweatshirt had shifted up against her neck, allowing the other side to slip off Luna's left shoulder, leaving it bare to the morning air. The rest of the garment draped over her, concealing her figure. But as Neville watched her sway and dance in place at the stove, the fabric moved against her body and occasionally hinted at certain feminine curves. Neville wasn't sure exactly what it was about it, but he found what Luna was wearing was intensely appealing. And the way she was moving was absolutely intoxicating. He watched the hem of the sweatshirt dance along her thighs along with her movements. His eyes locked onto her bare shoulder multiple times. Each time he did so, he was seized with the impulse to walk right up to her and kiss that bare skin. Luna's long, blond tresses had been pulled back into a haphazard ponytail. Whatever she had holding her hair in place, she also had her wand stuck through it. It gave Neville the mental image that she had walked through the garden earlier and snagged a branch in hair. That image was quickly replaced by one in which he was running his fingers through those blond strands. Neville somewhat self-consciously ran his hand through his own hair and frowned a bit. "Bed head", he thought. "Can't really help that right now", he shrugged. Neville's eyes roamed over her bare shoulder once again and traveled up to that curve where her shoulder met her neck. He knew that spot well and knew the effect it had on her. Aside from his detailed study of Luna's figure and the way it interacted with her borrowed garment, there was something else about this scene that drew him in. He realized it was the fact that this beautiful, intoxicating creature in the kitchen was his wife. She was not dressed to the nines or wearing any make-up but she was still gorgeous as far as he was concerned. The way she danced and sang carefree along with the Muggle song radiated joy. The fact that she was cooking for them was not a statement about her role in the household, but something she was doing just because. This lovely, spirited creature was his, and he was hers.

At that moment, Luna turned to place a fresh piece of French toast on a plate at the table. She noticed her husband at the doorway and smiled. "Good morning Nev!", she greeted as she set down the food.

"G'morning.", Neville replied. He finally saw the front of the sweatshirt and noticed the crest of RAF Donna Nook emblazoned across it. Neville vaguely recalled picking up the garment some time during a tour of that facility but for the life him, he could not recall what was at that RAF station. Not that it was particularly important at the moment.

"You're just in time, go ahead and help yourself." Luna moved the pan off the burner and went to gather some utensils. Neville moved forward, fully intending to help himself, just not in the way that Luna probably intended. As she set the table, she was slightly surprised to feel Neville's arms encircle her waist. Luna smiled as she felt his lips press against her cheek. She turned easily in his arms and moved to give him a quick kiss on the lips.

"Well, good morning.", she said again.

"Good morning dear.", Neville replied. "Thank you for cooking."

"You're welcome. What would you like to dr-ahh!" Luna found her words cut short as Neville's lips had travelled down to that spot where her neck met her shoulder. He knew what effect that had on her and she was well aware that he knew. Her heart rate quickened as she felt Neville pull her more tightly against him. "Neville-", Luna took a moment to sigh in response to his ministrations, "-aren't you hungry?"

"Yes."

"For food? Or for something else?" Neville didn't answer verbally but pulled back to meet her inquisitive eyes with his own smoldering ones. Luna was quite sure he didn't need to reply verbally, she'd seen that look in his eyes before. Her husband's eyes definitely looked hungry, and it wasn't for what she had just finished cooking. Neville opted not to reply verbally and returned to kissing her neck. "Neville-", Luna began as she felt his lips trail down to her bare shoulder, "-breakfast is going to get cold…"

"It can wait Luna."

Luna wrapped her arms behind his neck, "I guess it can…"

Some Time Later

Luna had been correct. Breakfast did need to be warmed up again by the time she and Neville sat down to eat. He had apologized for letting her cooking get cold but she told him not to worry as the delay had been well worth it. As they ate, Luna mused over three thoughts that were floating through her head.

Luna's first thought was that she was probably going to feel a little sore later on in the day but not in an entirely unpleasantly manner. She knew that also meant that Neville would probably be feeling a little sore as well in a different, yet at the same time, very similar manner. Luna blushed a bit as she recalled that she and Neville liked to joke that it was a sign that they had been "thoroughly loved".

Luna's second thought was that the kitchen table was actually quite sturdy. It had been a gift from Neville's grandmother and Luna was bit concerned that the antique might not have been very sturdy. It turned out that was nothing to worry about.

Luna's third thought came to her as she savored a forkful of maple syrup-drenched French toast. As the thought processed through her mind, she glanced over to her husband, who was busy pouring syrup over his second plate of French toast. "I'm going to have to borrow this sweatshirt more often.", Luna thought with a mischievous smile playing across her face.

Author's Note: This is another chapter I had written for "Home is Wherever You Are" but I could not find a place to fit it in without breaking up the flow of the story. I did not really think of a specific time in Neville and Luna's marriage when this takes place. In the end, I decided it could take place at any time in their marriage. I like to think it is not an isolated scenario. On the contrary, I like to think it happens quite often. I don't know what it is but I think there is something utterly appealing about a lady "borrowing" her man's shirts. An episode of the American TV show "Big Bang Theory" helped inspire this chapter.

Anyone want to take a guess as to what song Luna was singing and dancing to as she cooked?

If anyone is curious, RAF Donna Nook is a bombing range.