Thunk. Thunk.
Neville quickened his pace as he walked down the bland white corridor. He shouldn't be here, in this muggle hospital where he was neither wanted nor expected.
Those eight years ago, she'd made it perfectly clear.
"I'm done Neville. I don't want to live like this anymore. From now on, I'm a muggle."
She refused to face him.
"So this is goodbye."
And he'd stood there and watched as the only girl he'd ever loved walked away from him.
But he couldn't help but continue walking. If she was really in here, he would find her. Hermione had called him that morning and broke the news. Hanging a left, Neville stopped at one of the several nondescript doors. You would think that something, anything would show who exactly lay in that hospital bed, but then again, muggles didn't care as much, did they?
He flashed nostalgically on the changing nametags at St. Mungo's. They changed according to the patient and their mood. Just this morning, his mother's had a dark blue background with gold spots. She had been sleeping.
Clutching the knob tightly, Neville opened the door quietly. His eyes trained on the floor, he turned and shut the door behind him.
Finally, he raised his eyes to the person in the bed. Her pale blond hair fanned out all around her, and her chest rose and fell slightly with her breath. The IV in her arm just made her look all the more fragile. Cautiously, he moved over to stand beside her bed. Neville gently brushed a few stray hairs off her face.
She was just as beautiful as always.
The door creaked open.
Neville jumped away from her, guiltily.
A man with short blond hair entered the room. He looked curiously at Neville, not sure whether to be cordial or wary.
"Hello," the man said carefully.
"Hello," Neville replied. He was as tongue-tied as he was when she last saw him, he mused with a soft smile.
The man frowned slightly as Luna stirred. "Perhaps we could speak outside?"
Neville nodded slightly and followed the man out with a final glimpse at Luna.
When they finally stopped, they were in the hospital's cafeteria. It was quiet, most people having already left as the end of visiting hours grew nearer.
The man regarded Neville carefully. He extended his hand. "I'm Rolf Scamander, and you are?"
Neville clasped hands with him. "Neville. Neville Longbottom."
Rolf continued to stare at Neville, waiting for him to speak.
"Oh," Neville realized belatedly. "I was a classmate of Luna's, several years back."
"That explains it," Rolf said cheerily. "I apologize for my rudeness earlier, but you know, you can't be too careful, leukemia and all. It's best for her to sleep as much as she can."
Neville politely nodded. It wasn't as if she would have welcomed him any better.
"Mr. Scamander?" A nurse asked. "Could you please come upstairs? Mrs. Scamander is asking for you. And we need you to fill out some insurance forms while we're at it."
Neville followed Rolf as he made his way back upstairs. His mind was shoving one possible conclusion at him, but he stubbornly kept searching for more. He had thought that Rolf was just a friend.
All uncertainty disappeared when they made the turn to Luna's room. Neville waited outside as Rolf entered. The nurse, with her job completed, left to go back to her rounds.
Neville waiting for a few moments, unable to make out even a faint murmur from inside. Finally, Rolf exited the room, expression serious.
"Well I'm off to fill out those forms," he informed Neville. "And she wants to talk to you, so go on in."
For several moments, Neville just stood blankly before the door. Reigning in his emotions, he entered the room and leaned against the wall. A chair stood a few inches away from the bed, but he opted to stay away.
"I suppose you think I'm a sellout." Luna's voice came out clear and sharp. She was now sitting up in bed. "Maybe you think that I just went with the first guy that was willing and married him. You would be justified in thinking that of me" She cast a look over at Neville, who remained outwardly impassive.
"I get it," she continued. "But I couldn't let you go without explaining first." Luna looked down at the bed sheets and took a deep breath. Gathering her courage, she continued.
"I'm sick Neville. I'm really sick. And when I first got the news, I didn't know how to handle it. I didn't have any insurance. Without the insurance, I was going to die. With the insurance, I still might die. So yes, I married Rolf. He understood. He offered, actually," she chuckled humorlessly. "Rolf and I both knew that I would die without it, so the next week we went to see a judge and got the marriage certificate signed."
Neville looked up at her. "He loves you."
He said it as a statement, not a question, the implications heavy in his tone.
"I know," Luna replied. "And I know how much I'm hurting him by being his wife out of convenience and not love. Don't you think I know that?" her voice escalated in volume. "Of course I know that by signing those forms I was lying to him. But what could I do?" her voice began to soften. "I just didn't know what to do."
Her blond hair fell in a veil around her hair, tears dropping onto the sheets.
"I still don't know what to do."
Neville moved to do something, anything to comfort her. Before he could take a step, a shadow passed by the frosted glass in the window, effectively freezing them both.
Rolf stuck his head into the room. "Hello sweetheart, I'm going to get some coffee. Would you like some?"
Luna shook her head at him silently. The door clicked quietly when it shut.
"You should go Neville," Luna said quietly, her hair still obscuring her face in a perverse parody of a bridal veil.
Neville held his breath for a few moments before turning to leave the room. As he opened the door to leave, he paused.
"I still love you Luna."
With that, he left.
A crisp, cold December day found Neville Longbottom sitting outside numbly.
Inside the house, a newspaper lay discarded.
"Obituary for the late Luna Scamander, neé Lovegood"