A/N: Don't worry, I didn't forget about this story. Life's a little hectic and full of nargles, that's all.
x
Love, Luna
Chapter Three: These Little Things
x
Many miles away from the Longbottom-Abbott residence sat a run-down, beaten house the color of storm clouds. It sagged into its foundation, the way an old mattress does after many years of exhaustion. The house stuck out like a sore thumb on a street of perfect cookie-cutter residences, and it may have been pretty like the rest at some point, but all kinds of wear and tear had resulted in dozens of paint chips missing, shingles half-hanging from the window, and a crumbling walkway.
It was clear that whoever lived here was as unhappy as the house itself, and today was no different, as shouts of all kinds ricocheted around the kitchen.
"Briar! Briar, show some respect and look at me when I'm talking to you!"
The girl called Briar, nearly seventeen, looked through her curtain of short, straight black hair at the woman across the counter. The woman's lips pursed at her satisfaction, the scraggly red hair pouring down her back and her brown eyes bearing no resemblance to the teen's.
"If I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times," the woman said, agitated, "do not leave your Hogwarts stuff laying around where the other kids can get into it!"
As she said this, twin boys around the age of five were running around the living room, screaming and throwing things at each other, which resulted in Briar having to raise her voice to respond, rolling her icy blue eyes.
"I don't see why I have to go back to school for my last year when I'm of age on September twelfth, anyway—"
But the woman interrupted by nearly shouting herself. "You'll do it because you won't get a job and get out of this house, and because I said so, that's why."
This struck something deep inside Briar, and she narrowed her gaze. "You're not my mother," she said quietly, but the woman still heard her, her face angry as she flicked her wand towards the sink, the pots magically cleaning themselves.
"You're damn right I'm not. The government doesn't pay me nearly enough to take care of you and six other brats until you're of age. But I promise you, when the last day of your seventh year comes around, you're out."
Briar rolled her eyes. "Can't wait."
The woman bellowed several more words at her, but the girl didn't pay any attention as she scooped up two textbooks, three quills, and several pieces of parchment from the floor where the twins had trampled it. Storming up the stairs, she slammed the creaky door of her bedroom behind her, letting out a long sigh as all noise was blocked—for the time being, anyway.
She let her hair fall in her face as she shoved the supplies into a cardboard box under her bed, which held her unfinished homework (which would remain that way), her slightly curved wand (which she so desperately wanted to use), and the rest of her books (which she hadn't bothered to open). After kicking the box back under the bed, the young witch sat on the wrinkled sheets, eyes narrowed. She hated this house. She hated it with every fiber of her being, and being stuck here, forced to be "happy" in the eyes of the government was something she had certainly not wanted for herself. When she was moved out of the orphanage at the age of eight to live with the foster parents, she had a flicker of hope that she would actually have a family for the first time in her life.
But she had never been so wrong. She'd found out long ago that Brenda and Stephan were only in it because the seven kids were giant moneymakers. And with all of them being wizards, there was always stress, always accidental underage magic happening under the roof. Briar was mentally counting down the days she could pack her things for good and get the hell out.
In the midst of her frustration, her eyes caught a faded blue notebook on the floor, something she'd picked up at a Muggle thrift shop a while back. When she had anger towards her screwed-up family situation, the classes at school, or struggling to piece together her past, she'd scribble it down in the pages. But now, when her eye caught sight of it, a small smile flickered across her face. She picked it up and let it fall open to the middle, where she'd tucked a battered photograph in the crease.
The moving picture displayed a woman in an Azkaban uniform, leering at the camera. Her untamed curly hair stuck out at odd angles, and her taunting eyes lacked warmth. An air of superiority and amusement radiated off her expression and pose, and to the ordinary man, she would have been very frightening indeed.
Briar, however, was not ordinary.
With a final grin, she carefully closed the book and tucked it inside the box to take back to Hogwarts, the woman's picture etched very clearly in her mind.
x
Dear Luna,
I couldn't sleep for the longest time, and even though it was nearly four o'clock in the morning and I could hear the first of the birds making noise outside the window, I wasn't the least bit tired. You asked me to keep writing you letters, so here I am.
It's on these awful, sleepless nights that I have so many questions in my head. I'm afraid of the future, Luna. I'm afraid of the past. What if nothing works out the way it should?
Neville
x
Brrring!
Neville sat up with a jolt and looked at the clock. August sixth, 2:17 A.M.
Brrring!
He fumbled for his wand on the bedside table, muttering "Lumos" under his breath, and picked up the telephone. He didn't see a need for the infernal machine, but Hannah had insisted on installing one so she could contact the Muggle side of her family, who had been quite terrified at the first owl that landed on their windowsill, and refused to correspond in that manner afterwards.
Brri—"Hmm…hello?"
"Neville? Neville, it's Ron. Listen, mate, I'm sorry for the timing, but it's faster than an owl, and Ginny's in labor now."
Neville was instantly awake. "What?"
"Yeah, she wants you down here. She screamed something about her closest friends before they shoved ice chips in her mouth and pushed her away. I dunno man, she's pretty persistent even without a human inside her stomach, and if I were you, I wouldn't ignore her demands."
Neville ran a hand through his hair. "Shit. Okay, I'll be right there."
"Room 204," Ron said, before hanging up. Neville put the phone down and started to push the sheets off him, but paused when he heard Hannah stir.
"Hey…" she whispered softly, still in a half-asleep state, and Neville would be damned if it wasn't the cutest thing he'd ever seen. "What's going on?"
"Ginny's having the baby," Neville responded, pulling on a pair of socks. "I'm headed down to St. Mungo's. Go back to sleep, dear."
She stared up at him blearily, a tiny smile on her face in the faint wandlight. "Wake me when you get home," she murmured before turning back over.
Neville couldn't help but smile back at her, leaning over to kiss her forehead as she drifted back off.
"I will."
Not even bothering to change out of his pajamas, Neville threw on a jacket in case it was cooler in the waiting room and flew out the door, running the several hundred feet to the lamp post at the end of the block and Apparated instantly.
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was disguised cleverly inside an old Muggle building, and Neville couldn't help but shiver as he passed through the barrier. Even after more than twenty years of visiting, he never forgot how cold it seemed, how there seemed to be shadows following him on the stark white walls of the corridor. Yet, he tried to remind himself that he was here for a happier occasion, and swallowed his fear as he found his way to room 204 in the maternity ward.
It was quite a hysterical sight, Neville thought to himself, as he found six Weasleys sprawled on the floor, couches, and chairs in the waiting room. Neville's heart rose slightly when he spotted a platinum blonde mass of hair amongst the red. Luna was sitting on the floor, talking quietly to Ron, who was quite pink in the ears.
"Hi," Neville interrupted, somewhat breathless. "How's it going?"
She turned to him and smiled, making his heart sink into his stomach. "Wonderfully," she said, "though Ron seems to be a bit more troubled than the rest of them."
Luna was right; Ron's face was ghostly white, contrasting enormously with his ears. "I think I'm gonna be sick," he murmured, letting his head fall into his hands. Neville knew all too well that out of all the Weasley brothers, Ron was the most protective of Ginny, and it was clear that he would take all of her pain in a heartbeat if he could.
"Do you want some coffee, Ron?" Luna asked kindly. "Tea?"
He didn't look up, but Neville could hear the word "tea" mumbled through his lips.
"I'll take a coffee, actually," said Arthur Weasley, who seemed beyond exhausted. "Black. The biggest size they have."
Luna stood up and stretched her legs, clearly having squatted against the wall for some time. "Anyone else?"
George requested a bottle of water, but the rest of them declined. Luna tilted her head towards Neville. "There's bound to be somewhere we can get drinks around here. Care for a walk, Neville?"
He nodded, as he would much rather meander around the hospital than sit and sink deeply into his own mind. Even though the maternity ward was slightly more comforting, the hospital still gave him the creeps, and any distraction was welcome. "There's a barista open twenty-four-seven on the main floor," he said, knowing it all too well.
As they walked towards the elevator, Neville snuck a glance at Luna and noticed she was still in her pajamas as well: pale green-and-white striped pants with a ludicrous pink polka dotted T-shirt. She hadn't even changed out of her slippers, which were shaped like enormous cows and had tinkling bells around their necks. Even in sleep, Luna's idea of fashion was rather obnoxious, but it somehow reassured him.
"I'm proud of you," she said quietly as she pressed the button for the main floor.
He looked at her, confused. "Why?"
"Because you're sacrificing your own comfort to support your friends," she replied. Luna's pale eyes shone at him as she spoke. "I know you carry bad memories with this place, and I know it's hard for you to come here. But the fact that you did—" she paused as the elevator halted and she stepped off into the lobby—"shows true strength."
Neville just shrugged, fighting the pink flush that was coming to his cheeks. After so many years, he'd overcome the initial shock of his brain-dead parents and now just felt a sense of numbness come over him. "It's okay," he muttered, half-lying. "It's not a big deal."
"But it is," Luna interjected, stepping in the line for coffee. "All the little things you do for people—you don't realize how much it really means to them. It's more than you know."
Neville stood in silence, pondering what she had just said as she moved forward to order the drinks. It may have only been his imagination racing, but he had the odd sensation that she was implying something.
Luna balanced two trays on her right arm and handed him a small chai tea. Neville sputtered a thank-you and reached in his pocket for a Sickle, but she shook her head. He sipped it carefully, tasting the perfect blend of a small bit of sugar and whole milk.
"You know my tea order?" he questioned as he took one of the trays from her arms.
"Don't sound so surprised," she joked. "Of course I do."
Neville just grinned behind the rim of his cup.
When they got back to the maternity ward, there were a significant amount of Weasleys missing. Only George, Percy, Bill, and Charlie remained, but they seemed much more relaxed than they were when Neville first arrived. George shakily took the water from Luna's tray, his face still pale but now tense-free.
"It's a boy," he said breathlessly, downing half the bottle in one gulp. Luna broke into a smile, and Neville felt his whole body relax.
"A boy?" he repeated. Neville tried to picture the baby, wondering whether he had inherited his mother's flaming red hair or his father's jet black, but the green eyes were inevitable.
Charlie, the oldest, nodded. "Dad and Ron are in there now. It's a bit crowded so we're taking turns."
Luna turned to Neville and chuckled. "Aren't you glad I bought you that tea now? Looks like we will be here for some time."
He just shook his head in disbelief, mirroring her expression. As the minutes ticked by, the family members were let in one by one, until only Neville and Luna remained, leaning against the whitewashed corridor.
"Can you even imagine this?" he said. "We're all grown up, getting married and having babies and whatnot."
Luna stole a sip of the last of his tea and shook her head. "I can't wait to have a real family," she said quietly. "Don't get me wrong, all of you are included, but I really want children of my own. I've always loved them."
Neville's eyes flickered to the enormous diamond on her left hand, finding it so easy to picture Luna as a mother. With her sweet, gentle temperament, she would raise them beautifully. At the thought of Rolf being the father, though, Neville's muscles clenched. He would never admit it, but he sensed deep within himself that Rolf would never be what she deserved.
Her next query surprised him. "What about you?" she asked. "You and Hannah are pretty serious."
Unsure of how to reply, he remained silent. "Umm…" he began. "Well, I—"
"Neville? Luna?" The exhausted face of Harry Potter poked through Ginny's door, and relief washed over Neville. "Do you want to come in?" The rest of the Weasley clan, apart from Ron, started to file out.
Still in slight shock from Luna's question, Neville found himself unable to answer, but she immediately jumped to it.
"Yes, we'd love to."
Neville struggled to his feet, leaving his empty cup on the floor, and followed Luna inside the room, not even realizing he was holding his breath.
Ron, Harry, and Hermione, looking tired but pleased, were sitting in chairs around Ginny's bed. The proud mother looked up at them as they entered, holding the swaddled baby carefully in her embrace. "Hi," she said, exasperated but content. "I'm glad you came."
"We wouldn't miss this for anything," Luna replied, standing next to her bed and peering into the blankets. "He looks like you, Harry. Neville, come see."
Still standing awkwardly in the doorway, Neville obliged, moving next to Luna. She was right; the baby had a small tuft of black hair on his head. Finally regaining his voice, Neville said, "What's his name?"
"James," Ginny answered. "James Sirius Potter."
A chuckle escaped Neville's lips. "I couldn't think of a better name myself."
"Do you want to hold him?"
Neville was startled, not wanting to take the precious child out of his new mother's reach. "Oh, I don't know—"
"Oh, go ahead," Ginny interjected. "I'm tired, anyway." She shifted her body to hand the baby over to Neville, and he awkwardly, but very carefully, took little James in his arms.
It was like he escaped into some kind of dream as he looked down at this new life. Upon being handed over, the baby's eyes opened to indeed reveal the color green. James' face was so soft and innocent that it made Neville's entire body relax. Everything about him was tiny, from his eyelashes down to his little fingernails gripping the blanket. With Luna's presence next to him, Neville was entirely calm, only wishing that he could escape into the alternate reality he would never admit he wanted…
"He's beautiful," Luna said, interrupting Neville's thoughts. He carefully gave the baby back to Ginny, who was beginning to fall asleep in the bed. Ron had already nodded off with his head back in the chair, and Hermione had prominent dark circles under her eyes.
"We should go," Neville said, hoping it didn't sound too hurried. "We all need a bit of sleep."
Harry nodded. "Thank you, again, for coming," he yawned. "I'll send you an owl soon."
And with a few final, sleepy goodbyes, Neville and Luna were on their way out of St. Mungo's. Still getting over the intensity of his mind's travels, Neville didn't even notice the bleary hospital surroundings, only snapping out of it when the sticky August air hit him. When they got to a safe distance for Apparition, Luna turned to him.
"Goodnight, Neville," she said quietly. "I'm not sure when I will see you again, but I know you will have plenty to talk about as soon as you go back to Hogwarts, so I expect lots of letters." She smiled at him, and he felt that pit-of-his-stomach-heartache again.
"Yeah. Of—of course."
And then—unexpectedly—she embraced him.
Neville had hugged Luna on plenty of occasions, but something about this one struck him. Something about the way her body just folded into his, her familiar scent wafting up at him, and her slightly tangled blonde hair gave Neville an odd, but at ease, feeling. He wrapped his arms around her petite figure, unconsciously pulling her closer to him, begging to stay in her warmth and comfort for just a little while longer.
But before he knew it, she had let go.
"I'll see you soon. I promise."
Her voice was quiet.
"Okay."
And there she went again, Apparating into the night and leaving him alone in his heart and his mind.
x
Dear Neville,
Here's a new question for you:
But what if it does?
Love,
Luna
x
"I'm amazing when you're beside me. I am so much more. And I feel your fingers pound like thunder, and I am so much more." –Matt Nathanson