Many thoughts, thousands of them in fact, circled the murky abyss of Luna Lovegood's mind. Well, one can hardly use 'murky' when describing the intellect of one the most open-minded and intelligent, if slightly misunderstood, witches of the seventh year. If thoughts had colours, scents or even personalities (and Luna was very much convinced that they possessed all of these things) the 'abyss', or rather, 'pool' of Luna's mind would undoubtedly consist of a thousand different vivid reds, startling greens and the brightest blues. And so as Luna meandered around the various corridors of Hogwarts, dishing out unintentional compliments to the witches and wizards of the Hogwarts portraits and giving the Malfoy boy an undeserved, absent-minded smile (who seemed too engrossed in his apple to notice, let alone care), she pondered about many things. She thought about the new 'education' system of Hogwarts and how Snape could have possibly had the compulsion to employ the Carrows, spreading fear wherever they went (She eventually came to the conclusion that it was the nargles' fault). She thought about the last time she had been to the Burrow and had been bitten by one of the various gnomes living there. That day, Luna decided, had been very insightful. She dedicated her longest and most heart-felt thought to Harry, Ron and Hermione and how much she had missed them this year; she missed Harry's untidy midnight hair and how- ridiculously- he thought that flattening it with his hand would help somewhat, she missed the permanent look of utter gormlessness on Ron's freckled face and his exasperated sighs every time the prospect of schoolwork became apparent, she even missed Hermione's wrakspurt-filled aura, clouded with opinions. But the thing, or rather, the person that Luna thought about most that day was Neville Longbottom. And the thing that surprised Luna the most was that she was not surprised at all by this thought and the fact that it had entered her head in the first place.
Ron had been gone for exactly four months, two weeks and two days. She still remembered tying her purple scarf around the trunk of one of the various trees in that forest, a mark for the world to see. After all of their efforts to destroy horcruxes, save the entirety of the wizarding world and maybe even extend the fronds of their friendship to something that wasn't quite friendship anymore, Ron had abandoned her. Left her and Harry with the weight of the lives of thousands on their shoulders. Well, Harry's shoulders really. But Hermione thanked all of the various Gods she barely believed in that she hadn't left too because she knew, without a doubt, that Harry wouldn't last two days without her. The tears dried up long ago, the empty feeling (although technically you couldn't feel empty, Hermione had told herself) had gone. Now there was just a mere ghost of the sorrow she had endlessly endured left behind, a ghost which very occasionally haunted her. But she had shaken herself and assured anyone who would listen (again just herself, as Harry was usually busy figuring out how they were to destroy the next horcrux) that Ron was not priority anymore.
Meanwhile, as Luna was pondering over Neville, Hermione over Ron, Draco was thinking about when he would next feel the glorious crispness of an apple around his teeth. This was something that Potter would never feel, because the famous Harry Potter was not deserving of apples.
It was a particularly rainy Tuesday morning, and Neville Longbottom was headed towards his first lesson of the day, which was herbology. Although Neville adored herbology (mainly because it was one of the few things he could actually accomplish), it hadn't really been the same since Snape had crowned himself king of the castle (the castle in question was, of course, Hogwarts), nothing had really been the same. Even the teachers would avert their eyes to the floor, scared that one of the dreaded Carrows might even hear their thoughts, read their frightened minds. Hogwarts was under rule of a dictator, a tyrant. But Neville pushed these thoughts away and tried to focus on getting to his lesson on time, because he most certainly did not want a twelve page essay as compensation for being late again, as he needed sleep. What with his running the D.A. and getting regularly pummelled by the Carrows for standing up for one the various first years that they had victimised, on top of a mountainous heap of homework, Neville was exhausted. So he welcomed herbology with open arms. Gryffindor just so happened to have herbology with the Ravenclaws that morning, so Neville found himself paired with Luna Lovegood. Prior to Harry's departure, there had been more and more D.A. meetings, and soon a feeling of togetherness and unity had spread throughout the small group, knowing that they all faced the same enemy, together. So Neville was happy to be working with Luna that morning, as he considered her a close and treasured friend.
Under the watchful eye of the Carrows (who were 'inspecting' their lesson, or rather, 'looking for reasons to dish out detentions'), Luna and Neville were performing the rather strenuous task of pruning a wild Snatcher Shrub, which was a large bush dotted with even larger boils, angry and red, which looked fit to burst any minute. 'Watch out,' Luna said to Neville in a dreamy monotone, 'the pus in those boils really aren't the same shade of red as your Gryffindor emblem, it would be a shame to mix the two together and unbalance your aura.'
'Uh, thanks Luna', replied Neville, offering her a grateful smile as, sure enough, there was a pus-filled boil rather nearer to his robes than he would have liked, about to explode.
'It's fine', she said, returning the smile, at the time of which a spontaneous burst of sunlight came from the open greenhouse window, playing across her features and highlighting her
beautiful white-blonde hair. Neville was momentarily taken aback and, feeling his face turning a delightful shade of beetroot, hastily continued to prune the Snatcher Shrub.
Just then, one of the Carrows, Alecto, spotted the Butterbeer cork hidden beneath Luna's robes (which, however hard anyone tried to convince her to take it off, it never left her neck), 'Detention!' Alecto cried, as Luna looked up from beneath the fronds of the Shrub, 'any suspicious jewlery with any immoral undertones has been banned, Miss Lovegood, as stated in decree number 74! Idiot girl!'
It seemed that weeks of trying to keep his fellow D.A. members spirits up, gaining detentions from trying to teach the Carrows some morals themselves and just genuinely attempting not to break down from lack of sleep had finally pushed Neville to breaking point. Plus, he felt a burst of affection for Luna bubble up from inside of him after she had saved his robes from scarlet pus, and would not stand her being treated like this. It was, Neville decided, completely unfair.
'Hey!' he exclaimed, 'you can't just give her a detention for wearing a stupid necklace! What 'immoral undertones' can you possibly find in that? You're wearing one yourself right now!'
And that's how Neville and Luna found themselves sitting outside Snape's office later that day. With 50 points taken from their houses. Each.
Neville was angry. Angry at himself, for gaining yet another detention, which probably meant more homework, ergo, sleep deprivation. Angry at the stupid Carrows, without whom Hogwarts might resemble the glorious, hope-filled place it once was (but deep down, Neville knew that the reason Hogwarts no longer resembled this place wasn't because of the presence of the Carrows, it was the lack of Albus Dumbledore). And just a little (and completely irrationally) angry at Luna, if she had just listened when they had told her that wearing that ridiculous necklace was asking for it, rather than being her stupid spiritual self and believing that she was completely above everyone else because of the clarity of her stupid aura, they wouldn't be in this mess. Neville dragged his hands through his dark hair, momentarily fisting them tight, and let out an exasperated sigh.
'I'm really sorry Neville,' came a small voice from beside his left shoulder, at which Luna was perched - who also believed (again, completely irrationally) that she was to blame - and as if reading his thoughts: 'I know how much stress you're under right now, and the amount of Nargles in here obviously isn't helping either, so I - '
'For god's sake Luna,' Neville began, his voice dangerously quiet and fists clenched, 'you're right, I am under huge amounts of pressure at the moment. People are dying. You-Know-Who is getting stronger every day and for all we know, Harry, Ron and Hermione could be dead. On top of it all, we've got stupid NEWT's to worry about. So I would really appreciate
it if you and your bloody Nargles could just leave. Me. Alone.' He said the last three words with pure venom. And regretted it as soon as he said them. As soon as he turned to see Luna's wide, tearful eyes gazing at him. As soon as he remembered that he wasn't the only one with a million things to worry about, and that Luna's father had recently been arrested. As soon as he realised that this was the first time he had lashed out, released his anger on an undeserving victim, like a cork popped from the lid of a bottle, pressure building up beneath it until it had inevitably exploded. Like a Butterbeer cork. And that that victim had been Luna.
'Okay,' she whispered. A thousand more tonnes of guilt weighed down Neville's heart at this one word. After a few moments, he spoke again, his voice much gentler,
'No. No, Luna it's not okay, I shouldn't have snapped, I shouldn't have lashed out at you like that. It's not your fault, of course it isn't. I just…' But here words failed him, as he just couldn't put into words everything that he was feeling right now. But Luna saw everything he was trying to convey to her in those large apologetic eyes, and so simply pulled him into a gentle and intimate hug. Neville instinctively stiffened at first in Luna's arms, but after a moment relaxed into the embrace, into the cocoon protecting them from things like detentions, Carrows, Voldemort, trying to pry their way into their minds and ruin this friendship. 'I know Neville,' she said, 'It was just the Wrackspurts, that's all. A few fresh water plimpies should get rid of them.'
And despite everything, Neville laughed into Luna's golden hair.
It was a particularly calm Tuesday night, and Hermione lay curled up in the tent, trying to push Ron from her mind and get a little sleep before it was her turn to guard the tent. She thought about the night in Grimauld Place where Ron had insisted on sleeping upon the hard wooden floor while she took the sofa, falling to sleep holding hands. About the time when she had attempted to teach him 'Für Elise' on piano, a little rusty herself from lack of lessons, and laughing into his shoulder when he banged down on the keys so hard she thought they might break, laughing harder at the confused expression plastered on his face when he couldn't get it right. About the time when he had shouted at Snape, along with the rest of the Gryffindor third-years, when he had scolded her 'for being an insufferable know-it-all' and got himself an undeserved detention. About the time when he gently stroked her cheek with the back of his rough, calloused hand and assured her that 'she was the best at spells'. Hermione briefly registered that there were tears on the pillow next to her, and with a jolt of surprise realised that they were her own. Just then, she heard Harry's voice from outside of the tent, calling her name. She hesitantly got up to see what all the fuss could possibly be about, emerging into the startlingly cold night, when a sight met her tired eyes
that nearly made her faint to the ground with either shock, happiness or pure anger. She could not decide which. Standing a few metres behind Harry, dripping wet, with the sword of Godric Gryffindor in one hand and the horcrux, open and mangled, in the other, stood Ron.
'Hey,' he said gingerly, holding out his arms in front of him.
Hermione's screeches of fury could even be heard beyond their protective enchantments that night. After all, the one thing stronger than magic, as Lily Potter had proved all those years ago, is love.
It was a particularly beautiful Tuesday afternoon, Draco decided, as he made his way to the Great Hall, where it was currently lunchtime and he knew that a plethora of apples, magicked into the golden dishes, were waiting for him.
During the course of the next few weeks, Neville found himself drawn closer to Luna, their paths crossing more times than he could count. In D.A. meetings, where he would pair himself with her when no-one really fancied being her partner (the fact that they were to practise stunning spells on each other probably had something to do with it). In herbology, when he wouldn't hasten to ask if she would help him cut the last cactus leaf just out of reach, or make sure that there was enough soil covering the back of the fern, a little out of his view. Even when they were revising for their upcoming NEWT's, asking if she wouldn't mind helping him memorise that last set of dates for History of Magic. Truth be told, Neville had no trouble reaching for the cactus leaf or remembering the dates. At first, it was completely intentional. Neville would often purposely try to make friendly conversation with Luna or help her carry her bags, almost as another apology for last Tuesday's episode, which had not gone forgotten. But soon, it wasn't just friendly small talk, it became something a little more, neither of them knew it yet, but their friendship was becoming something a little bigger. And the cause of this, the spark that had ignited the flame, the pebble which had started the ripples, was probably last Tuesday's argument.
Today was Sunday, which meant he had managed to get revision, homework and everything else done yesterday, so Neville had nothing better to do than stroll the Hogwarts grounds, which were shockingly bright today. It seemed that the return of Voldemort, the loss of Dumbledore and all the other bleak and heartbreaking things that had been happening recently hadn't had a brilliant affect on the weather, and so this bright, warm day really took everyone by surprise and Neville realised he wasn't the only one basking in this rare sunshine, especially when he walked head first into Luna, who was reading an upside-down
'Quibbler' (one of the old editions, Neville knew, as Xenophilius Lovegood currently wasn't writing any). 'Sorry Neville,' she said, lowering her paper and bending down to pick up the fallen parchment she had been carrying.
'It's alright,' Neville said, 'here, let me do that,' as he too bent over to pick up the parchment. For a brief second, their hands met, reaching for the same piece of paper, unintentionally entwining. Neville felt his face reddening again, but Luna merely picked up the last piece of fallen parchment with her free hand, stuffed it in her bag, and continued walking, her hand still holding Neville's. There was quiet for a minute, as both of them realised that the strangest thing about this situation was that it didn't feel strange at all.
So Neville and Luna continued to walk the Hogwarts grounds together that morning, holding hands.
Draco was caressing his latest apple, feeling the smooth waxy skin, a beautiful pea-green in the afternoon sunlight, when he noticed Longbottom and Lovegood strolling past a nearby tree, and he knew that anyone who saw him, Draco Malfoy, softened down to a miserable pulp just because of one piece of fruit would undoubtedly take a toll on his tremendous popularity, so he quietly hid behind a gorse bush. Until he realised that they weren't just walking, they were walking alone, and holding hands. Longbottom and Loony! Holding hands! He smirked, appearing from behind the bush, startling them, 'are we expecting a happy announcement by the end of the week?' he asked mockingly, his voice a waterfall of sarcasm. They both turned a delightfully satisfying shade of red.
'Shove off Malfoy,' snapped Neville, but the volume of his voice and fact that he was looking down at his feet really didn't add any menace to the tone of his voice.
'Oooh, don't let me interrupt you,' relied Draco. 'You're all so pathetic you know; you, Potter, Weasely, that mudblood Granger and especially Lovegood.' He spat the last word.
Neville was just about to open his mouth and tell Draco to yet again, shove off (with slightly more choicest words), when Luna beat him to it in that iconic dreamy monotone of hers, but with added venom only someone as close to her as Neville was would notice.
'You know Draco, I pity you, I really do. I can see it in your eyes, you constantly put everyone around you down because you can't deal with the fact that they have and are everything that you want to possess and be. You want to be Harry, obviously because of his fame and popularity, which you so tragically lack. You want to be Dumbledore, you admired and aspired to his leadership and warm personality, which again, you do not possess. Most importantly though, you want to be us. You don't want this life Draco, I can see that you don't. You don't want to be constantly shadowed in the brilliance of those who you are only
condemned to serve, so join us, work to bring you-know-who down, not help him rise to glory! Isn't that what you want?' Neville stared at Luna, unable to believe that such a speech had come from this quiet, spiritual girl standing beside him. He was more shocked still when he looked up to see tears, real human emotions, glistening up in Draco's eyes and for a moment, Neville pitied him too. But just for a moment.
'You'll be next, blood traitors.' Draco said in a quiet voice, which would have been intimidating were it not for the thickness of his voice. He then promptly turned and stalked off, his confident, former swagger gone.
Draco would never forgive himself later when he realised that he had left his apple behind that gorse bush.
Luna and Neville continued to walk through the grounds (still holding hands), but closer to the edge of the Forbidden Forest so as not to run into anyone else willing to mock them. Luna presently heard a voice just above her right shoulder, and turned to see Neville still staring in disbelief at her. 'I wish the rest of the D.A. could have seen that.' He said, the surprise still present in his voice, 'I mean Seamus and Dea-' But he stopped and Luna noticed he was struggling to maintain his composure and remembered with a jolt that Dean was gone, left without a trace, last seen in the company of a Goblin and an old man, apparently. Luna also remembered that Dean was one of the few close friends that Neville had and his absence probably wasn't doing a whole lot of good for Neville right now. That and the Nargles which were currently in the nearby Forest.
'It's alright Neville,' she said quietly, but soothingly, 'There's no one here to see you upset, except me and the Threstrals.'
Neville smiled at the memory of the Threstral's that he, Ginny, Luna, Ron, Hermione and Harry had ridden to the Ministry of Magic. He felt Luna's reassuring hand slide up from his own to Neville's back and responded (rather bravely) by resting his own hand around her waist. She smiled at him.
Harry wondered if and when Hermione would ever forgive Ron. He thought that the 'let's vote on it' tactic was bad, but was proved wrong with the 'mum always said midnight' remark, which was even worse. Ron had lied though, when he had said to Harry that he loved her like a sister. It was much more than that and all of them, Harry, Ron and Hermione, knew it. Harry sighed and turned over in his bed, knowing that he needed sleep, he was exhausted. But he also knew that beyond sleep was where Voldemort plagued him, invading his memories when he least expected it.
In the bunk bed above him, Ron wondered the same thing. He wondered if the damage he had done by leaving them to fend for themselves, even coming face to face with Voldemort himself, was reparable or not. 'Do you think he knows?' He called out to Harry, who he knew to be lying beneath him.
'What?'
'Do you think he knows that the horcruxes have that ability? That power to, just, you know, make you say stuff, make stuff like this-'
'Like what?'
'You know what I mean, like me leaving.'
There was silence for a minute.
'That wasn't the horcrux mate,' Harry replied, 'that was you being a git.'
Ron smiled to himself, as – in guy terms – this was basically a declaration of love.
Luna anxiously waited outside Amycus and Alecto's office (which was only a little bigger than a broom cupboard), where she knew that Neville was receiving punishment for earlier refusing to practice the cruciatus curse on a first year. She wasn't sure if she wanted to turn and run, or race inside the cramped office on hearing sickening blows and painful thuds coming from inside. She could imagine Neville though, in one of her mind's many eyes, not crying out, not begging for mercy. Only looking Amycus straight in the eye, never breaking his stony gaze. She admired him for that and made a mental note to bring him some dirigible plums to him later, which were an excellent remedy for bruises such as the ones which she was sure were currently forming on Neville's face.
A few minutes later, Neville emerged, limping and sporting a rather impressive black eye and Luna felt such a bout of affection for him in that one moment. The Carrows' office was located in a very much deserted corridor, so what Luna did next went thankfully unnoticed, for if it hadn't, she knew that Neville would never hear the end of it from his fellow Gryffindor's. Without a word, she gently placed a kiss on his bruised lips, one of them cut and bleeding. And it was, ironically, like magic. One rough, calloused hand tentatively entwined its fingers through a strand of golden hair, while another small pale one was placed on a scarred and bruised cheek. 'Thanks,' he murmured. When they broke apart, still in each other's arms, Neville could no longer feel the pain of his swollen eye or cut lip.
'HERMIONE!' Ron yelled, his voice echoing off the walls of the cellar which they were currently in, beneath Malfoy Manor. 'HERMIONE!' The sound of her screams reached them even from upstairs. He made an attempt to open the gate, throwing his weight against it, but it wouldn't budge.
As Hermione lay, just 20 feet above him, no breath in her lungs left to scream, she began to drift into something similar to sleep, but much more peaceful, much more inviting. But she briefly registered someone calling her name, shouting at her, but from here, half way between dead and alive, it sounded faint and hazy. But it got louder, echoing around the hollow of her head, demanding her attention, so she listened. And as Ron continued to scream her name, and much to Bellatrix Lestrange's disappointment, Hermione slowly regained consciousness.
Draco was currently tucked away in the safety of his room, in one of the various turrets of the manor. Granger's screams from beneath did not bring him the pleasure and satisfaction that Draco had expected, instead he tried with all his might to block out the screeches of pain and fury, so as not to weigh his heart down with yet more guilt. A tiny part of him, deep down knew that a small part of what Luna had said to him a couple of months earlier was right. He did not, under any circumstances, enjoy being Voldemprts puppet, and an even tinier part of him, even deeper, really did want all of those things that Luna had listed. He wanted love, he wanted friendship. The only thing he didn't want was to admit it.
But his apple understood, he reminded himself, cradling said apple in the crook of his thin, pale arm.
Hermione awoke in a pale blue room, soft and bright, to the sound of seagulls and the smell of sea. Then she remembered. She remembered Ron calling her name and dragging her from beneath the debris of the fallen chandelier, she remembered apparating to a bleak and isolated beach, and Dobby taking them to safety… She suddenly felt a slight tingling pain in her arm, and help it up to her eyes for a closer look as to what it was. She heard a small gasp, and soon realised it was her own. For upon her arm, etched in her own blood, were the words 'mud blood'. A small sob escaped her mouth, which she quickly stifled as Fleur Delacour – no, Fleur Weasely, she corrected herself – entered the room.
'Ah, you are finallee awake', exclaimed Fleur. 'Ronald vil be pleased.' Hermione felt herself sit up a little straighter at Ron's name.
Sure enough, the door opened to reveal an exhausted-looking Ron, who's face brightened at the sight of a fully-conscious Hermione, limping into the room.
''ee'z barely left zis room since you all arrived,' Fleur continued, but seeing that she was clearly interrupting, she said 'I vil just check on Mr. Ollivander,' and promptly left.
Ron somehow made it across the room to Hermione's bed in just two strides, and sat down on the bed beside her, tentatively stroking her cheek, as if she might break at the slightest touch, Hermione noticed. She obviously wasn't looking brilliant. And sure enough, as she sat forward a little she felt a sharp pain in her ribs, and suspecting that one of them was broken, she winced slightly.
'Careful,' Ron murmured, gently easing her back onto the pillows. She briefly recalled a time when she was the one doing the nursing, pouring essence of Dittany onto Ron's arm and smiled bitterly to herself at the irony of the situation. She remembered the words scratched onto her skin and quickly made an effort to hide them beneath the sheets from Ron, although she suspected that he had probably already seen them. 'No,' he whispered to her, 'Be proud of who are, it doesn't make any difference to me.' And Hermione smiled at him, a genuine smile this time, as she realised that Ron was right. He would love her no matter where she came from, no matter whether she was muggle-born or not. Harry and Ron were her friends, and they stood by her just as she by them.
'How's Harry?' She asked, remembering him suddenly.
'He's fine' Ron reassured her.
'What about Ollivander?'
'All fine, a little shaken I guess, but Fleur says he'll make a full recovery'
'And Dobby?'
Ron shuffled in his seat, looking at the polished wooden floorboards.
'Ron?' She touched his arm slightly, forcing him to look her in the eye, 'what about Dobby?'
Ron sighed. A thousand fond memories swam before him of Hermione's constant argument that it was S.P.E.W, not spew, and he forced himself to look her in the eye. 'Hermione, I'm really sorry, he didn't make it. Bellatrix, she –' But here Ron stopped, the tears in Hermione's eyes told him that she didn't want to know, so instead, he kicked off his shoes and lay beside her in that pale blue bed, holding her in his arms and letting her salty tears soak the front of his shirt.
Fleur later entered the room, about to scold Ron for treading sand all over the house, but stopped at the sight which met her there. Hermione and Ron lay, limbs entwined, on the bed, wrapped in each other's arms and submerged in the deepest of sleeps. Fleur smiled to herself and quietly left, softly shutting the door behind her so as not to wake them.
A storm was coming, Neville could sense it. It had been a good five months at least since Luna and he had become, well, an 'item', but no one really put a label on it. Seamus had clapped him on the back and Lavender and Parvati giggled every time they walked past holding hands, but that was the extent of the gossip. Throughout these five months things had been getting worse at Hogwarts. After Professor Burbage didn't come back after last Christmas, Professor Carrow (Alecto) took her place as a muggle studies teacher, and 'educated' them on how muggles were the sub-humans, dirty and incapable. Neville had been getting into worse scrapes even than before for his 'back chat' (he once asked Alecto how much muggle blood she reckoned her and her brother had in them). But as the Death Eaters didn't want to spill much pure blood, they had kept him alive, which was more than could be said for some of the other pupils of Hogwarts also prepared to fight back. But ever since his Gran had sent him that note telling him of the Death Eater's attempts to ambush her (and her feisty comeback, which had sent Dawlish to St Mungo's) and that she was currently on the run, just because of Neville and the rest of the D.A.'s actions to try and fight back, the Carrows had decided that Hogwarts could do without Neville, and had expelled him. Luckily for Neville though, he wasn't the only D.A. member who wasn't welcome at Hogwarts with nowhere else to go, and by a stroke of luck, the room of requirement had turned itself into a temporary living space, as well as a practice room for their regular sessions and meetings, organised with the fake galleons. So the D.A. had been doing more work than ever, spray-painting corridors with things such as 'Dumbledore's Army. Still Recruiting.' But after Easter, when Ginny didn't come back, him and Luna were left to lead the rest of the D.A, and the room of requirement was getting fuller and fuller by the day with more residents having to call it their home after getting unceremoniously expelled from Hogwarts. The house-elves and Aberforth were obliged to help, and often brought them up food and drink, so generally, it wasn't so bad. But Neville could feel it; something was bound to happen soon. Something had to put their training to good use.
How right Neville had been.
It was only the next day that he found himself leading Harry, Ron and Hermione up the passageway from 'The Hog's Head' to the Room of Requirement, explaining everything that
had happened over the last half year, and learning in that yes, Voldemort was planning to attack the castle, and could be there right now.
Luna smiled with relief and pleasant surprise as Neville came through the passageway with Harry, Ron and Hermione, crowning them each with a Butterbeer necklace of their own, having made them a fortnight previously, for in case they were to return she was sure that they would need extra protection from the Nargles. And when Harry mentioned an object that they needed, close to Voldemort and somehow connected to Rowena Ravenclaw, Luna piped up, 'Well, there's the lost Diadem of Ravenclaw,'
'Yes but Luna, it's lost, remember?' Cho Chang reminded her. 'No one's seen it for years.'
But Luna persisted, and after the D.A. had split up in search for 'something to do with Voldemort but related to Ravenclaw' she went off to catch up with Harry, assuring him that the Diadem was still existent, and informing him of the lengths he would have to go to in order to find it…
The Battle of Hogwarts could be heard for miles and raged for the next several hours. Horcruxes were destroyed. Lives were saved. Lives were ended. Harry Potter was momentarily believed to be dead. Voldemort was finally stopped. But beneath it all, no one saw The passionate kiss Ron and Hermione shared in the chamber of secrets, or the swift but gentle one that Neville and Luna had on one of the moving staircases, or even the large bite of apple that Draco enjoyed on the third floor.
It's ironic sometimes, how the most historic moments in magical history can often cause us to overlook the most important ones.
It was nearly 7 years and 2 weeks since Voldemorts death, which made it a bright and peaceful May 26th. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna and Ginny had stayed on at Hogwarts after the Battle all those years previously to help repair the damage and morn those who had been lost. The three of them continued to return once a year without fail, for reasons none of them could quite express into words. Ron and Hermione were currently basking in the sunshine in front of the Black Lake, watching the water ripple as beneath its surface lay the Giant Squid (who had been completely unfazed by the fact that Hogwarts had just battled the most evil dark wizard of all time). 'Do you think… Do you think Fred's here, Hermione?' Ron asked, completely out of the blue, his voice thick.
Hermione thought for a moment, unsure about how to answer this question, Ron hadn't brought up Fred in a long time. In the end she settled with the truth. 'Yeah,' she replied. 'Yeah, I think he's with us, Ron. In spirit.' She confirmed, turning to face him and seeing his eyes well up.
'Because I think he'd want to see this,' Ron said, before taking a small, square box from his robes and opening it to reveal a beautiful gold ring, in a simple but elegant plaited style. 'Hermione Jean Granger,' he smiled, 'Will you marry me?'
Neville and Luna were walking around the fringes of the Forbidden Forest, holding hands and reminiscing about another time, years ago, when they walked this same route and held the same hands. They both briefly thought that they heard an ecstatic scream come from beyond the Lake, but Neville decided that it was just a trick of the wind. Luna decided that it was the Nargles.
'Luna?' Neville asked tentatively.
'Yes?'
'Are Nargles the ones that like shiny things?'
Luna smiled and sighed an exasperated sigh. 'No, that's Wrackspurts. And magpies. Why?'
'Well, are there any Wrackspurts here?'
'Right now?'
'Yeah'
'there's no reason why there should be. Why?'
Neville pulled out a dark, square box, within which was held a beautiful silver ring, a crescent shape with adjoining diamond stars.
'Will you marry me Luna?'