Author's note: A little Neville/Luna oneshot, to assuage my own recent sleeplessness... Poor Neville. I hope it's alright, and that there's not too many typos or mistakes. I'm tired. I'm not even sure if I'm coherent right now... Sorry. Also, I know it's not strictly canon, but... I love this ship too much to ever let it sink. Ever. I'm going to cling to it forever, and possibly dance on the deck as it slides under the ocean, laughing madly. Not that that's going to happen. Obviously.
I'm aware I kidnapped Lorcan and Lysander from Luna/Rolf, but... Meh. I LOVE NUNA! Or is it Luneville? I'm never quite sure. And I'm really, really sleepy. Night. Hope you all get a better night's sleep than poor Neville...
NEVILLE/LUNA FOR LIFE!
This is actually the only thing that is better in the film than it is in the book. That scene with Luna and Neville at the end of the film... I squealed. It was embarassing. But JK Rowling said herself that Luna and Neville were rebelling a bit against her... That right there is a true ship. I'm ignoring the fact that she said Rominie was a mistake. In fact, I'm erasing it from my memory, because she said she thought Luna and Neville would be good for each other. I mean...? *Little shipper heart explodes*
I don't own Harry Potter.
"I'll ask ya one more time." Snarled Carrow, his stale, bitter smelling breath washing over Neville's face, wand an inch from his face. "What were ya doin' in the dungeons?"
"I told you." Neville repeated stubbornly, throwing a sideways glance at Luna as she stood, still and impassive, staring at the wall. On an impulse, he reached out and grabbed her hand, her fingers clammy beneath his own.
If she was surprised, she didn't let on. She continued her deadpan examination of the wall opposite. Neville's heart was pounding hard, and the wind was whistling through the smashed out window, the flickering candle bracket not making even a dent on the omnipresent, suffocating darkness. He squeezed Luna's fingers a little tighter.
He was a Gryffindor, he reminded himself. He was brave.
If nothing else, he'd prove that.
"We were sleepwalking." His voice was strong, obstinate and stubborn, and he knew in that moment that he would never cave, could never cave. This was important.
Neither of them could afford to break.
Carrow gave a mad cackle, betraying a set of nearly black teeth. "I don't believe ya."
Neville had been afraid of that.
I don't know what gave it away, but get this: The fact that you were sleepwalking wasn't an entirely believable story.
Especially when you'd been caught with a can of spray paint in your hand.
"Wow." Neville said, with an affected courage he in no way felt. "You really are as stupid as you look. I didn't think that was actually possible. Tell me, how do you live with only three brain cells? It's always intrigued me, you see... You would've thought that you'd just stop functioning."
Neville couldn't believe his own valour. Or stupidity... Mostly stupidity. Neither, apparently, could Amycus.
"Did you jus' cheek me, Longbottom? I know you didn't jus' do that. I'll give ya three seconds to take it back. Or it's the dungeons." His eyes fell on their interlinked hands. "And that goes for the girl."
Neville weighed up his options. At this point, being honest would be positively suicidal... On the other hand, their situation couldn't really be much worse as it was... And what he wouldn't give to wipe that smirk off of Carrow's face...
"Were you cheeking me?" Carrow repeated, his face offensively close. Neville wondered whether it would be classed as 'cheek' to cough.
"I think he was, actually." Piped up Luna, her voice thoughtful. Neville could have groaned in frustration. He closed his eyes. Not Luna. "You're not very nice, you see... Not many of us like you, really."
"Is that so?" Snarled Carrow, outraged. "I should have expected as much from bloodtraitors like yourselves. A Lovegood, honestly. What will I do with you, my pretty?"
He ran a filthy fingernail down Luna's cheek, and Neville let forth a guttural scream. "Get off her! Get- off-"
Carrow punched him, and his mouth filled with blood.
"You want to skip to the good bit, Longbottom? Because that can be arranged!"
At first, Neville thought the wand was pointed at him, and relief such as he had never felt in his life washed through his veins. He released Luna's hand and stared down the end of the wand, promising himself that it would be over quickly, that everything would be alright. Promising himself he would not scream. Bracing himself for the curse...
A curse, it turned out, that never came.
"Crucio!"
At last minute, Amycus pointed his wand at Luna. Her agonising screams filled the corridor, and it suddenly her pain was everywhere. Every nerve in Neville's body cried out, screamed for realise, screamed at him to make it stop... But he couldn't, he couldn't, he couldn't.
And it was worse than crucio, a thousand times worse than ever having the spell directed at him... Having to stand there and listen to Luna screamed.
Because he couldn't do anything. And it was killing him...
And then, quite as suddenly as it began, it stopped, and Luna's scream died in her throat. She crumpled against the wall, her limbs trembling, her eyes closed, her skin ashen-grey. Neville rushed forward, and reached for her wrist.
Her pulse was thudding through her veins, so loud and beautiful in his ears he could have sobbed.
"And that was just the starter." Amycus snarled. "Come to detention on Monday, and you'll find out what happens to filthy bloodtraitors who dare to sully the dark lords name. It seems you need a reminder."
And with one last contemptuous glance, he was gone, leaving nothing but the tang of sour sweat in his wake.
"Luna." Neville whispered urgently. "Luna!"
"I hate that man." She half whispered, half groaned.
Neville had never heard such passion in her tone, never heard her speak in that voice. As if she might really be there, instead of a thousand miles away, with the creatures only she could see.
"Yeah." Neville whispered. "We'll get him, though. In the end. Just you wait and see."
Luna was still looking sleepy and injured, and ever the strategist, Neville decided the best plan of action would be to keep her talking until she gained enough energy to get her to the room of requirement, where the DA would no doubt be waiting for them, anxiously worrying over their absence...
"You were brilliant there, Luna." He said fiercely, taken aback by the surge of emotion welling up inside of him. "Really, truly brilliant."
She opened her eyes, interest aroused. "Neville, I think I'd like you to kiss me."
Neville, somewhat taken aback by this sudden statement, spluttered. Luna had many amazing qualities, as both as a friend and well... more than friend. (And he wasn't denying that he had thought about it.)
Subtlety was not one of those amazing qualities.
"You- you would?"
"Yes." She said frankly. "I would."
"Oh- Okay."
So he did. And it was wonderful.
When he pulled away, she'd stopped trembling, and her hands had somehow found themselves stilled on the small of his back... Though she didn't recall putting them there. And he had no idea what had just happened...
"I'm sorry." He spluttered. "That was really bad, wasn't it."
She looked somewhat surprised, her eyes growing huge. "Was it? I found it rather enjoyable. I'd like to try it again, soon, if you think that's something you'd be interested in... Although-" She winced, and even though she was in pain, Neville couldn't wipe the smile off his face.
"Come on." He said, looking left and right to check that no one was around. "Let's get you back to the DA."
But, in spite of his best attempt, Neville couldn't seem to get to sleep that night. In the end, it wasn't the somewhat-more-pleasurable kiss that haunted his sleepless thoughts...
It was the sound of her screams, echoing up and down the corridor.
...
"Luna!" Neville yelped, watching on in horror. "Luna!"
His legs refused to move, cemented into the ground, incapable of taking a single step... Blood bubbled up in Luna's mouth, a trickle of the deep red liquid sliding down her chin, running into her ear. Her neck arched as she let forth an agonising scream that seemed to reverberate through Neville's entire being, shaking his frame to its core, rendering him incapable of any coherent thought bar one.
Cruciocruciocruciocrucio. The words danced on and on, the perpetrator out of his reach. He was powerless.
All he could do was watch.
She locked eyes with him, and her usually dreamy expression was contorted in pain. "Neville!"
"Neville. Neville."
His wife's voice was soft, characteristically pensive and preoccupied, her expression when he opened his eyes everything it should be. In the moonlight, her eyes were large and silver and completely invulnerable. Her hair tickled his cheek, wispy and unkempt and utterly beautiful. She smiled serenely.
He'd probably disrupted her sleep. Dreaming was all Luna ever did... Even after two years of marriage, Neville still liked to amuse himself wondering what she dreamed as that peaceful expression crossed her sleeping face, untroubled by the insomnia, unworried by nightmares more vivid and real than anything in the daytime ever seemed.
There wasn't a single drop of blood on her chin or her cheek, as he ran an index finger across her face in a gentle caress.
"Luna." He whispered. "You're fine."
"Of course I am." She said airily. "Has a wrackspurt gotten to you, Neville?"
"No." He grinned into the darkness, examining her face in the slice of moonlight filtering through the curtained windows. "I'm absolutely fine, Luna. Just... bad dream."
"Ohh. I thought I saw a carting humdinger in here before." She swatted at thing air. "I'll have to put a dream net up. They scare them away, you know. I probably have a net downstairs... I can go and check if you'd like."
Neville smiled to himself, and squeezed Luna's waist. "Go back to sleep, Luna."
She sighed deeply, and settled herself back on his arm, her head leaning instinctively towards his shoulder.
Neville felt the comfortable warmth of her cocooned against him, listened to the familiar sound of her even breathing, and stared at the all too well-known sight of the dark ceiling. This was too common an occurrence, since the war. The fear kept him awake.
This was his least favourite part of the day. The one hour he dreaded above all others. Where Luna slept soundly, and he had not a chance.
"Luna?" He whispered.
"Hmm?"
"Tell me about the carting humdinger."
He could almost feel her vague, serene smile as she propped herself up on her elbows, a mist cloaked figure staring down at him, so ethereal to him in that moment she might have been from another life...
"Well, the carting humdinger is the humdinger of dreams, specifically nightmares. They don't like rooms painted in light colours, specifically yellows, and they always get caught up in the netting of the siren shark, which I brought back from Mozambique last time we visited, if you remember. I've yet to write up the paragraph for my book, but I think it's going to be the best part-"
He smiled and knotted his hands behind his head, letting her voice lull him into if not sleep, then at least peace.
She fell asleep long before he did. But he still couldn't wipe the smile off his face.
The fact of the matter still remained that it was not the Carting Humdinger that plagued Neville Longbottom. And Luna Longbottom was just too blind to see it...Or perhaps just not blind enough.
...
For the first six months of her pregnancy, Luna was convinced that she wasn't pregnant at all, and that it was in fact the wrackspurts and nargles, messing with her health. It took the combined efforts of Neville, Ginny, 6 healers, 89 pregnancy tests, a hugely expanding stomach and an impromptu visit from Hannah and Ernie MacMillan (bearing baby-related gifts) to convince her otherwise.
And now, Neville couldn't get her to sit down for three minutes in a row, she was so excited.
Oh, she had other things to occupy her time, he pondered, as he painted the nursery by the light of a torch bracket. Her book (containing the creatures she'd spent the past 6 years since leaving Hogwarts searching for, but blessedly free of crumple horned snoracks) was coming out at Florish and Blotts in a month's time, and there'd been an amazing amount of preorders. Most of the wizarding world, to be exact... Everyone wanted to hear about the amazing, eccentric war hero who'd proven the existence of about 80 myths...
Okay, Neville reflected, it was more like 8... But still. It was a huge achievement! Even crumple horned snoracks didn't seem quite so farfetched, now that Luna had managed to prove the existence of some of these creatures, beyond the dispute of even the Hermione Grangers of the world.
And it was bringing in huge business for The Quibbler, which Luna was editing almost by herself now, her father almost too busy and too haunted to manage it...
If there was one man in the world that was plagued by more nightmares than Neville was, then it was Xenophilius Lovegood.
It was still hard to think of him as his father in law.
Neville sighed, and looked at the wall. It smelt incredibly strongly of new paint, but this was all the better, for it banished the smell of his nightmares... Blood and rust and sweat and dust and a thousand other unpleasant things.
Not bad, he reflected, as he dipped the brush back into the bucked, turning to the next wall. One down, three to go.
"What are you doing?" Came an interested voice from the doorway. Neville turned to see Luna stood in an overlarge sweatshirt and leggings, a hand fluttering on her stomach as her hair cascaded down her back, her eyes huge as she looked at him.
He shrugged. "I just... Sleepwalking?"
She laughed. An almost inhuman laugh.
He still wasn't convinced she was real, half the time. It was like he should be able to reach out and touch her, and she'd just disappear...
"Please, Neville?"
"I just... You had so much to do, and I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd help you get some stuff done."
"Oh." She said, her eyes huge.
"I'm painting the nursery." He clarified, somewhat unnecessarily.
"Are you sure the carting humdinger isn't bothering you again?" She asked, knowingly. Neville frowned, struck suddenly by the ridiculousness of it all.
"Maybe... Maybe a little." He admitted, almost ashamed of himself, though he knew it was ludicrous.
She sighed. "I keep meaning to put up the net. I'll do it in the morning. Pass me a brush?"
"Luna, you can't..." He eyed her ballooning stomach.
She could. And she did.
And Neville was absurdly grateful.
But long after she'd waddled (waddled really was the only way to put it, he thought) back to bed, he sat up, head in his hands, trying to remember the last time he'd ever gotten a proper night's sleep.
...
Neville woke up in a sunlit room, a somewhat novel experience for him, unable to remember when he'd gone to sleep...
It smelt faintly of burning chemicals. Which probably meant that Luna was in the kitchen... Merlin help them all.
He yawned, stretched, and frowned.
There was something off about the room... Were those nets? And what... When did they paint the walls? He couldn't recall even deciding to paint them, much less...
"Luna!" He called.
"Yes?" She called, her voice serene. Rubbing his forehead, he slipped his feet into his slippers, wondering at the lack of crying coming from the boys room.
"Luna, did we paint- Woah!"
He stopped short at the sight of the twin's bedroom, for it was vastly different to the room he had entered last night, when he'd gone to check on the sleeping boys after returning from work.
(A new position from when we'd last spoken to him- Luna had given up travel in favour of editing the Quibbler, writing, and motherhood. Neville had given up travel and exotic greenhouses around the world in favour of teaching Herbology at Hogwarts, when Sprout retired. But that's hardly relevant here...)
"What's happened in here?"
"Well, the boys had some Carting Humdingers. I see why they were bothering you... I could hardly sleep last night myself. I kept thinking that they were coming for the twins... Anyway, they were crying, and so were you-"
"I was crying?" Neville echoed incredulously.
"Yes." Luna said matter of factly. "I thought it must be the humdingers again, so I decided to make the nets. And then I changed the colour of our room, and the boys. It seemed to work rather well."
"You... And what about the lights?" He asked, gesturing to the wildly spinning constellations around their head.
"Oh." Luna said vaguely, as if she might only just have noticed them. "I conjured them up when the boys couldn't sleep. It seemed to help."
"You're a marvel." Neville said, staring at her, wonderstruck...
"I could put them in our room, if you'd like?" Luna asked.
"Um... No. That's okay."
"Hmm... Yes, you're probably right. They're not really bright enough for our room... But I was thinking. Maybe if the boys are exposed to the stars, they'll be interested in divination. Wouldn't that be wonderful? We could have another seer in the family!"
Neville tried hard to hide both his amusement and his panic as he smiled, and picked up Lorcan, who'd began to cry...
"Yeah. Maybe. But we'll love them no matter what. Like, say they didn't like divination..."
"Oh! Of course, Neville!" Luna laughed. "But if they did like divination-"
"Luna?"
"Hmm?"
"I promise that our boys will never be bothered by carting humdingers. Not the ones that bother me..."
For a moment, it almost looked as if she might have understood what he was trying to say. Then, she beamed. "Well, of course they won't! That's why I put up the nets!"
Neville smiled and kissed her on the cheek, then looked down into the faces of their beautiful, peacefully sleeping sons. Some things she would never understand... Like the fact that it wasn't the carting humdingers that caused his nightmares. And that it was her, and not the nets or brightly coloured paints, that had scared them away...
Little did he know, Luna knew exactly what he was saying, too.
Because in the end, Luna had her eyes wide open. It was the rest of the world that was blind...