Neville's grandmother, with a firm, ring bound, gnarled hand, had taught him chivalry. He helped Luna to her feet were she still knelt, soaking on the bank of the Hogwarts lake.

"you're cold, Luna, let me..." he went to take off his jacket but was startled when she first began to take off her sopping t-shirt which was sticking to her. He blanched at the sight of her pale torso suddenly exposed and immediately turned away awkwardly removing his jumper and holding it out behind him without looking. Luna didn't seem to understand his awkwardness, Xenophelius had raised her not to feel ashamed or self conscious, he said all bodies were the same except some were more fragile. When Luna had shrugged safely into his jumper he turned back around and immediately blushed afresh as his grandmother's poor excuse for an orange cable knit hung loosely from Luna's shaking shoulders and swamped her hands in it's garish orange folds. She stared at him and then smiled very unexpectedly.

"so what was that all about? They seemed pretty upset with you..."

At this Neville could only laugh because he had never encountered a girl who could brush off a dunking in Hogwarts lake so bashfully and with such wild understatements. Then he remembered what Malfoy had been doing to the Verita tree and frowned.

"they were poaching from the Verita Trees."

Luna's wide eyes grew solemn and her quizzical smile faded.

"how dare they?"

"are you ok?" he shot back, watching her hug herself.

"just a little startled, that's all..."

without thinking he hugged her.

That self conscious part of him, the part of him that minded being the constant butt of every joke, was scared lest she might withdraw from his embrace, tell him he shouldn't go near her. But he was surprised and delighted when she hugged him back, drawing from his warmth. Her head rested on his shoulder and her didn't mind in the slightest when her hair dripped on his shirt.

"we'll get them back, Luna, you and me."

later:

she had kept the jumper which he was very glad about because it was an excuse to see her. He liked seeing her wear it, it linked the two of them and he liked the way her narrow fingers subconsciously played with the frayed sleeves and the way it would smell of her afterwards. Was he creepy? Maybe. Did he care? Probably not.

"Hello Clarissa" he smiled sheepishly up at the Fat Lady, you'd be surprised how few Griffyndors actually bothered to learn her real name, and consequently she harboured a secret soft spot for Neville to the extent that Fred and George had started to ask when their engagement was.

"Neville, darling, what by in the name of the Nargles have you been up to?!" Neville smiled at the mention of Nargles

"I was... held up with a girl."

"Neville! Dear boy do you mean to say you are courting? Why by Merlin's beard did you not tell me earlier I could have given you tips!"

"I don't know if she likes me, Clarissa, I'm... I'm "just Neville"."

"Neville she'd be mad not to. Not a Slytherin is she?"

He thought of how pure and good Luna was.

"She's the kindest girl I know"

the fat lady cocked her head, crooned and fussily rearranged the ruffles on her meringue shaped dress

"Neville you've been the sweetest little dumpling since first year, I know you'll do right by her and if she has any sense she'll see what a dear you are."

"Thanks Clarissa."

He paused

"I may have forgotten the password though..."

she tutted and told him to straighten his collar before swinging open to reveal the Griffyndor common room.

That night Neville sat in a warm corner of the common room eating toast and only speaking fleetingly to Seamus who asked why he was only wearing a shirt in December. He couldn't stop thinking about her. He wondered why all the other boys (and some girls) weren't constantly hung up on Luna Lovegood. He tried to logically list all the things that made him like her.

Her gentleness.

Her affinity with the flora and fauna of Hogwarts.

Her tousled blonde hair, part of which she seemed to have once intricately plaited before leaving it entirely to its own devices.

Her large green grey eyes.

Her timid but very caring smile.

Her Irishness.

The way she was subtly a genius.

Her boundless capacity for belief, whether it be in the mythical, in herself or in others.

|Her laugh.

Her courage, not brash like Griffyndor, but the hidden fire he'd seen only a flash of today.

Still later:

something went bump in the night. Seamus had made him watch Paranormal Activity and although at first he scoffed at the Muggles twisted televisation of poltergeists and ghosts it had creeped him out just enough that he opened sleep clouded eyes when he heard the floor boards creaking. He shuffled as quietly as he could into half a sitting position. Neville's blood ran cold and his heart gave a frantic leap in his chest when he saw a skulking figure enter the dormitory and loom over his bed...