A/N: This is from each of their points of view in turn. I wrote this much like I wrote A Love Like Laughter and In Adoration, or at least I tried. Reviews are much appreciated!
Rating: T for sex that's not graphic.
Pairing: Neville/Luna.
Dedication: To "miss asteria malfoy", who is the true inspiration behind this story.
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Luna's POV
Breath by breath, skin aflame you stand near to him and hope he won't notice that you're trembling. You're not nervous to be with him—it isn't he that makes you nervous—but it's what you're about to do. Your hands grip his lapels as if to tell him silently that you're his, but by now, you're certain he should know that you have always been his.
His lips are sweet and warm against your own and you stand on tiptoe, wrapping your arms around his neck possessively. This kiss, unlike others before, was passionate, and he sighed through it, breaking it off so he could look at you. You are still clothed, but you can read his face so easily and tell that he wishes to undress you. Your head nods in agreement as your fingers routinely attempt to unbutton the buttons of your favorite cardigan. His hands, much larger and stronger than yours, stop you and you realize it's because he wishes to do it himself. How could you resist that request? Silently you remain still while he removes your cardigan, t-shirt, and tank-top, and now you're bare-breasted in the moonlight peeping through the box window in your room. Your eyes continue to remain locked on his face, nearly melting when you see the way he studies your body. You wait patiently while he removes your pants and panties, and now there is only one clothed person in your room.
You suddenly remember that you've left your radish earrings in and you move to take them out when he shakes his head and says quietly "Leave them in." He's smiling at you in adoration, and you can tell that he genuinely loves your favorite, quirky hand-made earrings so you proudly leave them in as he quickly strips himself down to nothing. And suddenly, for the first time in your relationship, there is nothing more to be left to the imagination.
Your wide, blue orbs search his body as your heart rate skyrockets. He is no longer the slightly chubby fifth year you met a few years ago. Now he is a man, and he had earned that right back on that fateful day in May. The man he had become was the one thing you held dearest to your heart and as he gently laid you down on your back, you wished this moment would never end.
When he moves over top of you, your gaze locks onto his and refuses to let go while your hands find his shoulders, gripping tightly as he moves into position and slowly enters you. You wince slightly, biting your lip, not from pain—he was so gentle—but because of the mere shock of a first time. He didn't move for a moment after that, letting the shock subside—clearly, he was feeling it too—before beginning a steady pace. Your hands hold tightly to him, trying to keep up with his pace. It soon became easier once his pace quickened. You seemed to lose track of time between keeping up with him and stealing kisses along his neck, jaw, and those ears you've come to adore. Your arms snake around his neck, pulling him down so that he completely meshed with you. Time passed and you continued this passionate ritual, neither of you really making much of a sound besides heavy breathing and the occasional moan. When the moment came and passed, a tsunami of relief and tranquility passed through your body and suddenly the heat was all but gone, leaving you tender to the touch and cold.
He collapsed onto his back as he caught his breath, and all you could do was laugh and love him even more. Curling beside him, you hold him tightly—he plants multiple kisses to the top of your head—and gingerly caress the place on his chest where dark wisps are placed in a way that makes you kiss it once. He sighs with pleasure somewhere deep within his throat and you push your face against his collarbone, falling asleep with a smile on your face.
You loved this boy—correction, this man—before, but now, you adore both his complexities and his simplicities all at the same time. And as he wraps a sheet around you—you're barely awake but feel him still—to keep you warm while he holds you tightly to him, you finally, at last, feel safe.
Neville's POV
For so long you have fought your feelings for her, wondering why the hell you could stand up to Voldemort himself but couldn't turn around and tell the young woman you love that you, indeed, are crazy for her. But all of that didn't matter now because the two of you were an item, forever linked by your consistent need to be by the other's side. You reach out and cradle her face, stroking her forehead, cheeks, chin, nose and brow. You leave a trail of kisses up her neck and jaw until you reach her mouth and that's when you lose yourself. Her kiss was something to be cherished. Her tender lips were always eager for the touch of your own as she, too, gave in to her own desires. Her hands slide up your forearms, grasping your fingers with hers as you pull away, and it's perfect. Your life, your love, and everything about the way you feel is magical.
When you first met her, you wished to avoid her at all costs. But after a while, she had grown into not only a young woman but a heroine to their cause and, for you, the love of your heart, mind, body, and soul. You were utterly bewitched by those eyes, that nose, those gorgeous wavy locks of hers that were satin in feel to your rather calloused hands.
You step away for a moment and tell her that you wish to undress her—or, even more romantic, you wished to unveil her. Her eyes gave the go-ahead, so you removed your own sweater before beginning to remove hers. Piece by piece, your weary hands remove her cardigan, t-shirt, and tank top and then you stand back to revel in her beauty. Her arms she had folded behind her back and she was standing there, smirking at you and watching you watch her. Your eyes searched her form, for here she stood, bare-breasted in the moonlight as it cast a pale blue hue about the room.
After a moment to calm down and regain your own composure, you step towards her again while she willingly lets you remove her pants and panties and toss them aside. Now she was entirely nude and standing before you. A moment of searching her, familiarizing your eyes with her figure, leaves you breathless and your heart aches to touch her in this new way. It wasn't long before you, too, are nude and then it's just you and her together, left in silence to look at what had, officially, been unveiled.
Illusion shattered and nothing else left to imagine, the two of you lie down on her bed as you hover over her. Since you had made the move to undress her, you let her touch you first before you dare lay a finger on her. But once you had, you didn't look back. Her flesh was soft—almost milky—to the touch, much like the skin on a peach. You chuckled to yourself as you realized you had just compared this prime goddess with a fruit, but she didn't think twice, so neither did you.
You can tell by the look on her face that she is ready and as she grips your shoulders tightly, you know for sure. Moving yourself into position, your eyes meet hers just before you slowly, gently enter her. She is warm and is clearly willing as you stop, letting this feeling sink in for the both of you before starting your rhythm. You leave the pace steady, not wishing to hurt her as you stroke her face and chest, all light touches as though she was a porcelain doll, something fragile that could be easily broken. The last thing you ever wished to do was harm her to be too rough, so you kept things slow and gentle until your body decided that the pace should quicken.
You hope to God you're doing this correctly, wondering if she could even tell the difference or, let alone, cared. As she reaches around your neck and tightens her grip, suddenly the gaps between your bodies are gone and you have, finally, become as one flesh.
Looking down at where the spaces had been between you, you smile as you realize you can't tell what flesh is hers and what is yours and as your brown eyes meet hers once more, you smile at her, stealing a passionate kiss as the moment nears.
When the moment passes, you freeze without warning and all the hairs on neck and arms that had once stood erect lie flat again. You breathe a breath of new air and rest your forehead on her collarbone as you completely give way onto her. She laughs as you roll over onto your back and stare at the ceiling, a goofy grin pasted across your lips.
One of her arms encircles around your back and the other hand she lays onto your chest. You've never understood why she adores the hair on your chest so, but you love her all the more for it. You place your lips on the top of her lovely hair, moving it so that it curtains beautifully across her bare shoulders.
You can hear from a sigh at the back of her throat that you have made her happy and, subsequently, that she is falling asleep. Your eyes continue to stare up at the ceiling, immediately finding her paintings of Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and the two of you. The painting of her is holding the painting of you by the hand, and the word "Friends" is inscribed beneath it. Your eyes lock on the paintings and watch as they seemed to—not move—breathe. At that moment, you know a smile is glued to her face and that she has completely fallen asleep. You reach down and grab hold of a sheet, pulling it up over the two of you. Then you pull her close to yourself, knowing that she's dreaming of you. And as you, as well, begin to drift off, your dream starts off at the day you confessed your feelings for her and you grin. A dream was all you had before but now things were different—better. And your life was now meant to cherish her and love her for the rest of your life.