This can be read as a companion piece to Naturalists Not So Normal.

Nevile Longbottom was unsure how he felt at the present moment in time. After receiving a letter of the utmost importance he felt odd to sit at such a momentous instant, sipping a butterbeer with a nonchalance his insides did not feel, Neville longed to squirm in his seat, or jump up, or throw his glass against the bar room wall. Hannah would not approve. He could not move his head to look at his wife fondly, chatting pleasantly with her customers; Neville could simply drink and stare at the little letters in awe.

It was not happiness that he felt when he formed the words in his mind, big and round like ripe pears ready to be plucked. The words were heavy and weighed his whole body down into slow, languid thoughts and rapid, wild emotions.

The marriage of Luna Lovegood and Rolf Scamander was to take place on a Tuesday. March. A month from now. He had no idea, no indication had been given to him of her interest in the beak-nosed assistant, a man so different from the Army members he could not understand how his best friend could stand being in a conversation with him for long. Had they grown that distant from one another? Had time and Scamander worn on Luna until she loved him? Was that all Neville had needed to do? How had he not noticed the woman he had fought with for years in the Army feeling something like that?

The answer was simple. She couldn't. Luna Lovegood would always be the unpredictable, uncatchable girl made of smoke and wrakspurts. She couldn't be in love, she was marrying for some other reason, for some other purpose, a convenience rather than passion. Passion was for love and war, and she couldn't feel that same about Rolf—Rolf, more like the noise a dog makes than a name!—as she had when she was fighting side-by-side with Dumbledore's Army; with him.

The letter was simple and white with silver lettering, Luna and Rolf Scamander's names scrawled there with the date; nothing more than an invite. The envelope held a piece of parchment that slid out as Neville's body shuddered and finally slouched. Dropping his beer and letter with a clatter and swish, Neville read the note apprehensively.

Neville,

I know you are coming soon to help with the nargle infestation but I wanted to tell you immediately. You have always been my closest friend and I'm very happy to give you the news about Rolf and me. I very much wish for you to come. We haven't sent out the invitations yet, you have the only one; do you like the writing? Rolf did it himself. We will change the day if you can't come. It is important that you come and see for yourself what I was talking about. Rolf is always so nervous around you; I think he is worried you will someday take me away for an adventure with Dumbledore's Army and leave him to the gulping pimplies…

Neville laughed. He had always fantasized the rise of the Army again.

Now that I've made you laugh at me, I would like to ask you…

Neville pressed his face closer to the paper.

…if you would be my Maid of Honour? Without the Maid part, of course, unless you include Hannah in our entourage. Hannah won't hate me once we ask her to cater. I think she hated me so much Rolf didn't even know you were married. I am so impatient, I have never felt so erratic in my life that I couldn't hesitate to show you how I am moving on after DA. I know how odd it's been. Please tell me as soon as possible.

Your loving friend,

Luna.

His heart gave a start. What had he had expected from the moment the letter had landed on his lap? A confession? A wonderful moment where DA would come together again by Luna's letter of some force to the North? Her return to London so they could be the third pair of the two trios? Old ideas and dreams only securely dead at this instant. He looked to Hannah again, serenely sitting at the bar and knitting away. Neville paused, looking at the mousy woman hum a pretty tune, catching his eye in the odd way Hannah always managed to do. He laughed as Neville thought of the only times her face was marred with anything but tranquility; when his best friend was present or the Army was mentioned. Irritation on Hannah's face was always a strange thing that reminded Neville of wakspurts.

He chuckled at the expression that crossed his wife's features when Neville handed her the invite. He thought of the long life ahead of him and friends that would never leave, and the new additions to his life as he aged and wizened with a fake Galleon in his pocket and Luna Scamander always nearby. Dumbledore's Army had disbanded, but it was not the end for Neville Longbottom just yet.

This was, of course, the moment Neville noticed the bulge in Hannah's stomach he had missed so many times before.