Neville Longbottom had never been lucky. Whenever someone got a streak of bad luck, they called it Longbottom Luck.
You see, Neville's parents had been tortured into insanity when he was just a baby. And for the longest time, he was afraid he wasn't even magic. And his grandmother was always comparing him to his father, saying he was never good enough. That's bad luck for you.
Then he got a few strokes of good luck when he was accepted to Hogwarts. He thought it might turn his luck around. But no. Although he made a couple of friends (Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Seamus and Dean), they weren't exactly real friends he could tell all his secrets to. And he wasn't very good at classes or magic, most of the teachers didn't like him, and most of the students didn't, either. The only class he was good at was Herbology, and the only reason he didn't fail all the others was because Hermione helped him along.
In Neville's eyes, the world hated him. It was trying to make his life miserable; trying to make him feel like a loser. Not one thing in his life was good. Not one.
Until the day he met Luna Lovegood.
She was the one stroke of good luck in Neville's world of bad luck. Even though she was weird, an oddball like him, he found himself strangely attracted to her. She was beautiful and unique, and while others ridiculed her for it, he loved her for it. The pair became good friends, and Neville still loved her, even though he was afraid she didn't love him back.
But little to his knowledge, she did. She loved him immensely, and hoped he felt the same.
Which he did.
Hermione and Ginny were bridesmaids to the wedding, and Seamus was the best man, to avoid having to choose between Harry and Ron, who were groomsmen along with Dean.
And even though Neville's life was filled with bad luck of all sorts, it was those little pieces of good luck that mattered the most in the end.
