As the Great Hall buzzed with an odd combination of happy chatter and grieving tears, Neville Longbottom couldn't sit still. He was waiting for a certain Ravenclaw to wander through those huge oak doors, and he wouldn't rest until she did. He paced up and down the length of the Gryffindor table, unable to take in the melancholy atmosphere of the place. His head was full of terrible thoughts – what if she was injured? What if she was trapped in the rubble? What if she was de-
No, he wouldn't allow himself to think like that. Luna would be okay; she had to be. She may be dreamy, but she knew how to look after herself. Besides, the DA meetings in fifth year had really helped them all. Neville was sure that Luna knew enough combat spells to keep herself safe. But still, he couldn't settle. He should be celebrating with his friends, or mourning the loss of Fred, or Remus, or Tonks, or any of the seemingly endless casualties of the Battle, but none of it made sense without Luna by his side.
Why on earth had he left it until now to tell Luna her how he felt? He had known her for seven years, but only worked up the courage to speak to her when there was a chance that it was too late. Come on, Neville, he had said to himself, you're a Gryffindor, where's your bravery? But every time he had tried to talk to her, she would go off on some tangent about Crumple Horned Snorcacks and the like. He couldn't help but smile to himself. Half of the time, Neville didn't have a clue what Luna was going on about, but in those moments, he just listened to the cadences of her voice, letting the sound wash over him like the tide. What he wouldn't give to hear it again now…
The wait must be getting to me, he thought, I can hear her now, calling my name. He looked up, and out of the corner of his eye saw a blur of white blonde hair. Neville leapt to his feet, craning his neck to try and see. Was it her? Was it her?
"Luna?" he called, not daring to get his hopes up.
Her voice echoed off the stone walls. "Neville? Neville, is that you?"
He took off, sprinting towards the sound of her voice. Ducking and dodging through the crowd of students, teachers, and Order members, he finally made it to the Entrance Hall.
There she was, bloodied and bruised, but still wearing her usual vacant smile. The sight of her moved Neville almost to tears. He carried on running until he was close enough to throw his arms around her and lift her off her feet. He twirled her around, laughing in his joy. When he gently set her back down, he blushed, embarrassed at his emotional outburst.
"Hi, Luna," he said bashfully.
"Neville, what's come over you? Your head must be full of wrackspurts, I've seen them all over the place. All the commotion must have disturbed their nests; they're everyhw-"
But Luna never finished that sentence, because Neville had cupped her face in his broad hands and kissed her like both of their lives depended on it. He had never loved someone so much in his life, and he was sure he never would. When they eventually separated, there was a rare moment of silence between them, and they knew that everything was going to be alright.