Hi. I don't own HP, or Neville/Luna, but if I did I wouldn't share

This is for everyone who believes in love

And that you don't have to be perfect to be loved

1

Dark brown eyes flickered between rows of vegetation, searching. His breathing was light, interrupted by soft, nervous coughs. He didn't expect anything, yet, he told himself, one could never be too careful breaking rules. Licking his dry lips for the third time, he reached up absentmindedly to sweep the thin, messy brown hair away from his scanning eyes. After a moment of hesitation, and final glance behind him, he blinked and slipped inside.

Neville Longbottom peered warily into the vast greenhouse of Hogwarts castle, twitching slightly as the door shut on the cold darkness behind him with a sharp crack. From the faint shadows of the front hall he once again surveyed the area with a quick flicker of his attentions. It took only a moment, and he released a heavy sigh before straightening, far too quickly, swerving to catch the large pile of books he carried as they threatened to topple him. His hands fumbled around them awkwardly, eventually regaining balance in the manor he always did, stumbling forward a step. He laughed nervously, moving a free hand through his hair before shifting his burden hastily and walking on.

Slowly and silently Neville floated through the stillness about him, relaxing into his habitual game of naming plants he recognized while admiring those he could not. Surrounded by a vast expanse of warmth and familiarity, the Gryffindor boy took his time walking through the small Eden that was his world, letting the day's memory fade.

He slowed as he approached his alcove, glancing about before darting around the corner. It was a small, rather dimly lit workstation found sometime in his 4th year, located to the far back of the greenhouse. It was very old, tables covered in dust and dirt, their legs gnarled and worn with immense age. The shelves on the walls above were filled with dead plants and ancient Herbology encyclopedias, most in different languages and filled with exotic pictures he had looked at many times before. Hidden and abandoned, he was happily drawn to it.

Neville let his books fall from his hands, jumping as they smacked onto the pavement, the sound echoing around the chamber. For good measure he glanced around, but his mind remained only half alert. He was safe here.

So he sat down, lying against the far wall, and looked above him, absorbing the sky covered in opaque glass and greenery before resting his head on his knees to think. He closed his eyes, letting the sounds and smells of muddy earth and water wash over him as he drifted off.

He jumped at the distant sound of a door creaking open. It echoed through the greenhouse, the methodic click of approaching footsteps becoming more distinct as the crack of the closing door faded into the otherwise still atmosphere. Becoming suddenly nervous, Neville at once attempted to push the books beneath a nearby table, making a soft scraping noise as he did so. Still half asleep, he stood clumsily, nearly banging his head on the shelf above him. The footsteps grew louder, suddenly reminding the Gryffindor boy of a muffled metronome, and an odd sound he faintly recognized. He knew very well he shouldn't get caught here (what would Professor Sprout say?!) but curiosity – and the lack of another way out - got the better of him. Neville cursed himself silently as he ducked under another nearby table, opposite his books, hidden behind an old tablecloth. The boy watched warily through a seam in the fabric as the footsteps drew louder, the figure hesitating before entering the alcove.

She was barefoot, feet and legs exposed beneath a torn and faded blue skirt. It fell just below her knees, rippling around her as she glided past. A pair of worn boots was held at her side by the girl's thin pale hands, long white fingers cupping the laces. A dark baggy t-shirt engulfed her, the high neckline slipping down to expose delicate beginnings of neck and collarbone. Her necklace of butterbeer corks jingled at her torso, radish earrings just visible behind waist-length dirty blond hair. Misty eyes glowed in the half light of the greenhouse, darting around like grey fireflies.

Neville swallowed painfully, praying silently she wouldn't notice him; but he found himself completely unable to draw his eyes away. She could look down at any moment, he reasoned, yet he remained watching her. He couldn't explain why he remained so close or why he simply didn't reveal himself to her. But there was something strangely wonderful about her this way, something that captivated him and drew him to her.

She had positioned herself at the table opposite Neville's, turning her back to him as she looked around, her eyes calmly surveying the room. Seeing no one, she reached up and removed a large pot perched on the top shelf, taking from behind it a smaller flower, petals reflecting the lamplight. She cupped it lovingly in both hands as she retrieved it, holding it for a moment before putting it on the table. Neville craned his neck to get a better view. A small flowering specimen, petals unusually silvery-white in color, curved stem, bilateral leaves, slightly withered.

Luna reached up again, humming to herself as her hands grasped at a book on the shelf above her. It was heavier than expected, causing her to take a step forward as she removed it and another step forward as it fell from the shelf. She caught it noiselessly, another step to maintain balance. As she did so her foot brushed against a large stack of books, obviously pushed hastily under the table, causing her to twitch at the unexpected impact. Setting down the heavier book before her, the girl looked down to see a large copy of "HERBOLOGY: The Placing and Care of Magical Plants" stowed atop the messy pile. Radiating curiosity, she bent down to run her pale hands over the cover. She opened it, resting her palm on the edge and Neville noticed her nail polish matched the color of the flowers.

He shifted slightly, unintentionally, leaning to get a better look at the girl before him. His weight moved forward and he found himself suddenly off balance, falling with a muffled yelp and a loud smack onto the floor. Luna's head lifted sharply and she looked over at him, locking his eyes with her own. His feeling of surrealness augmented tenfold as Neville Longbottom gazed into the pale face he had seen so many times, finding himself unable to breathe. Time paused, and he was motionless with the color rising to his cheeks. He noticed her startled curiosity, then an unreadable emotion that followed. She did not lower her eyes and for a long time he could not look away. It was eternity before she gave a small smile, picking up the book in front of her and holding it towards him.

"I believe this is yours, Neville," she said in her sweet quiet voice.

"Oh…um, thanks….I mean - I'm sorry I…." He trailed off awkwardly, averting his eyes. He took the book from her hands, taking one last look at her polished nails before she hid them beneath her skirt. She just smiled at him in her dreamy way.

"Were you looking for Nargles?" He looked back at her for a second blankly, and then realized she was referring to why he was under the table.

"Oh, uh, no, Luna, I wasn't looking for Nargles. I was…" He grasped for a lie, "looking for Trevor!" he said too quickly, realizing immediately how stupid it sounded.

"Oh" She replied, "have you found him yet? I can help you...."

"Well…you see…" He stammered, looking for another excuse, "I…" he stopped awkwardly again. She just smiled and blinked.

"Luna what are you doing here?" he said, avidly trying to change the subject. She averted her eyes a little and lowered her head. He tried not to stare as she suddenly washed over him, her presence making him blush to himself. She sat like a painting, and for a moment he wondered why he had never seen her like this before. And he waited, holding his questions and watching her as she played with her hands beneath her skirt. Her butterbeer necklace jingled lightly at her chest as she breathed.

"So…" he encouraged her after a moment. She looked up at him, once again locking his gaze. The silvery cups of her eyes were grayer now, almost guilty looking, though she still wore her same far away smile.

"Well..." she sighed, soft voice barely above a whisper, "I am here to take care of my flower." She gestured up to the beautiful specimen on the table.

"Where did you get it?" He asked her quickly, admiring it, "It's very….unique…" He looked at her before averting his eyes to stare at the ground.

"I found it in the forbidden forest," Luna said, bringing her hand to her hair in a nervous gesture. "Isn't it pretty? I've been taking care of it every day." She picked up the flower pot and put it before her. As she looked at it, her smile faded a bit, and she seemed to think out loud "But…I don't really know how to take care of it. It hasn't been responding to sunlight or water and none of the books I've seen know anything about it…" she confessed.

"I could help you." Neville offered timidly, willing himself not to glance up at her. Then, trying to act more confident than he looked, he added "I happen to be very good at plants." He smiled awkwardly.

Luna's eyes grew saucer like and she laughed brightly, jumping on Neville and wrapping him in a hug. He was very aware of her body attached to his, her scent intoxicating.

"Thank you so much Neville!" She said as her hair brushed his lips.

"Sure…No p-problem, Luna."

Too quickly, she got off of him, apologizing. Her scent lingered as she hesitated above him, giving him one last smile before saying something he didn't hear and returning her flower to its place. She sprinted away, picking up her shoes before turning the corner. He watched her shadow disappear before remembering where he was.