Disclaimer: JKRowling owns Harry Potter. I'm just playing in her world.
A/N: Despite being against this pairing (Neville/Luna FTW!), I wrote this months ago. Never got round to posting it, so here it is.
Hannah had always been alone romantically. Her friends turned fifteen, got boyfriends and began to spend less time with her. She tried for a while, but always felt like a third wheel. She eventually learned to stay out of their way unless she was invited. She rarely was. At breakfast, lunch and dinner, she'd eat alone. During classes, she'd sit alone. After classes, Hannah would take herself to the library, or to the quietest corner of the common room, and complete her homework. And then she'd read, or go for a walk.
She temporarily left school when her mother killed by Death Eaters in Sixth Year, and didn't return until the start of the next year. She spent the entire time with her father, whom was a Muggle, grieving. Her mother had been the last connection to the Wizarding World that Hannah had, as her friends had ditched her for their love lives. Her father understood nothing about magic, a helpless Muggle. She felt more alone that ever that year.
By Seventh Year, she had stopped calling her "friends", friends. They became classmates, or room mates, nothing more. They had stopped coming round to each others houses during the summer long ago, they had stopped sitting in the same carriages, they had stopped eating together. They just stopped, ended, became nothing.
Nobody of the male population spared Hannah a second glance. She didn't even attend the Yule Ball in Fourth Year as no one had asked her to go. She got used to feeling alone slowly, but by the time she left school, she accepted that she'd never feel loved. She settled down and bought The Leaky Cauldron from Tom, who was her second cousin. She had conversations with her customers, and greeted regulars cheerfully, but it didn't stop the empty feeling in her heart. She saw people she recognised from school enter and order a drink, but none of them remembered her.
Neville had also been alone, except for the night of the Yule Ball, which he had shared with Ginny. He knew she hadn't enjoyed it, though, so he didn't like to think about it. He'd never had a best friend; he had friends, but he'd never been that close to them. Harry, Ron and Hermione were too good to him, really. They tried their best to include him in their group, but he felt so … different. One of them would bring up a memory, while the rest would laugh, and Neville would sit there silently, not knowing what they were talking about.
Luna had tried as well, but there's only so much of that girl one can take before they have to excuse themselves to get the nonsense out of their brains. She was a lovely girl, and Neville knew it, but she was too bizarre. Not that it was a bad thing, of course; just not something Neville could handle. It hurt him enough to have insane parents that didn't recognise their own son, but Luna reminded him of their insanity. It hurt him to be around her.
He spent most of the time at school being silent, blushing when he made a fool of himself, and helping out where he could. His real moment in the spotlight was in the Final Battle, when he drew Godric's sword from the hat and beheaded Voldemort's snake. And even that fame was short-lived. After Voldemort's downfall, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger swarmed the headlines. He remembered, in the thousands of articles and books there were, he was only mentioned in about thirty. Which, in the scale of things, was not a lot.
He was ashamed to think he was to blame for his lack of romantic relationships. Not only was he physically unattractive, but he was a complete klutz. He couldn't produce a coherent sentence around a pretty girl; he'd always stutter and stumble and blush. And then as he would try to make an escape, he'd end up falling flat on his face and getting laughed at.
By the end of his time at Hogwarts, Neville had still failed to find someone. He stayed in his gran's house for a couple of years, briefly taking the role of an Auror before taking over the deceased Professor Sprout's job as Herbology teacher. His love for plants was no secret. On those rare occasions when someone tried to engage him in a conversation, he'd bore them asleep with his natter about all the different properties of plants. He settled in instantly, pleased to be within the castle walls again. Occasionally students would ask if the rumours were true; if he, Professor Longbottom, really helped with Voldemort's downfall. He'd smile softly and nod his head, awaiting for the child to ask for details. When asked such a question, he'd reply politely before telling them to get on their way.
But he still couldn't remove the antagonizing hole in his chest, the hole of being unloved.
Summer was coming to an end when the unloved adults met again, five years after they left Hogwarts. Neville had just attended a stressful teacher's meeting in which they discussed the upcoming school year and the new students, along with patrol timetables and the like. He had been appointed Deputy Headmaster the year before, and with Professor McGonagall growing weak in her old age, he had a lot more on his plate. It was safe to say Professor McGonagall didn't inherit the cheery, energetic attitude of their previous Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.
He shuffled into the loud pub, taking a place at the bar. Not looking up, he asked the landlady for a Firewhisky and put the correct amount of money on the wooden bar in front of him. The landlady put a bottle in front of him and he raised his head to give his thanks. He recognised something about this woman, something struck a cord in his memory. The blonde hair, the shy smile, the flushed cheeks, the tired look in her eyes that told him she'd experienced too much for someone her age – everyone involved in the Battle of Hogwarts had that look, everyone courageous enough to stay and fight.
"Hannah Abbot?" he asked.
"You know me?" she replied, shock evident on her features.
"We went to school together. Neville Longbottom."
"I remember you!"
And that's how it started. For the remainder of the holidays, Neville entered her pub at all hours of the day. He and Hannah talked about anything and everything. Their personal experiences at Hogwarts, what they did once they left, their opinions on various subjects – they even talked about Herbology without getting bored. He helped her serve her customers as it grew more popular with stressed parents and excited children, all eagerly awaiting for the new term to start. Hogwarts students that recognised 'Professor Longbottom' greeted him cheerfully, or pretended not to notice him and pushed their parents out – most likely so their parents wouldn't ask him how their children had been doing in Herbology.
The two grew closer and closer as the summer drew steadily to a close. The first of September came around all too soon and Neville had to put away the alcohol and late nights, and bring out the plants and books. With a hug goodbye from Hannah, he went to Hogwarts. Occasionally, he managed to get away for a night, in which he went back to the Leaky Cauldron and caught up with his friend.
Christmas rolled by and Professor McGonagall allowed Neville to take half a week off (he was the Deputy Headmaster at a boarding school, he couldn't be expected to stay off for too long), which he spent in a room at the Leaky Cauldron. He helped Hannah behind the bar by night, and slept through most of the day, the rest of which was spent conversing with the blonde.
Two years later, Neville moved into the Leaky Cauldron permanently, but kept his job as Herbology teacher. Hannah was in for a surprise when he returned from school at the end of the year. As he apparated into the place at an ungodly hour of the morning, he jogged up the stairs to the top floor, which is where Hannah and Neville stayed.
"Hannah! I'm home!"
"Nev!" shrieked a voice. An excited blur rushed into the room, flinging herself into her best friend's arms. "I missed you!"
As she started to pull away, he tightened his grip, ignored the rushing colour in his cheeks … and kissed her. He didn't know when his feelings for Hannah had changed. Maybe the saying, "Distance makes the heart grow fonder," was true and his feelings changed while he was at Hogwarts. Maybe it happened when he was helping her in the pub one night and an injured man staggered in, and he watched helplessly as Hannah healed the man's wounds and let him the stay the night, free of charge. Maybe it was during the thunderstorms, when Hannah would crawl into his bed and cling to him fearfully, flinching every time thunder rumbled. Perhaps it was when she walked in when he was taking a shower and apologised profusely for the next five hours, even though he told her she had nothing to be sorry for.
But somewhere along that roller coaster, Neville had fallen for Hannah Abbot. And he'd fallen hard.
She gasped and pulled away almost instantly, but as he started to stutter an apology, she threw herself at him again, attaching her lips onto his in a ferocious, passionate kiss. Somewhere along the line, they ended up on the sofa, with Hannah on Neville's chest, as they tried to catch their breath, their hair and clothes in disarray.
"What does this make us?" Hannah asked breathlessly, her cheek pressed against Neville's chest.
"Well," Neville began nervously. "We … we certainly can't be just friends any more..."
"No, we can't."
"So, um, Hannah … will you be my- my girlfriend?"
She brought her mouth up to his again. "Yes," she whispered, her breath tickling his parted lips.
A year and a half later, Neville kicked up the courage to propose to her. He asked Professor McGonagall if he could take the day off to spend the day with his girlfriend. Once he mentioned that it was her birthday, the Headmistress agreed. After a romantic meal and a passionate kissing session, Neville gave her a present – a present that involved getting on one knee and saying those four words. Four words that could change a person's life forever.
"Will you marry me?"
It shocked Neville at how confident he was at that moment. He knew Hannah loved him, and he loved her back, but when imagining the proposal, he imagined himself stuttering and blushing pathetically. But, as he hoped, three months later he watched his beautiful fiancé walk down the isle in a white dress and a bright smile on her face.
"Do you, Hannah Rebecca Abbot, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, till death do you part?"
"I do," she sniffed, her eyes sparkling with tears of joy.
"And do you, Neville Adam Longbottom, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, till death do you part?"
"I do," he said confidently.
"You may now kiss the bride."
His lips were crushing hers before the vicar finished his sentence. As they broke apart, he rested her forehead against hers, unaware of the crowd around him.
"Hello, Mrs. Longbottom," he whispered, smiling at his wife.
She smiled, laughed quietly and put her arms round her neck, shifting her head so their lips connected again. Cheers erupted along the crowd and everyone clapped harder. They felt happy, they felt loved, they felt carefree. But most importantly, Hannah and Neville felt completed for what was probably the first time ever.
All was well.
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