Once school started, Neville and Luna had a plan. This term they would not go weeks without each other's company. In their final letter before Neville progressed into fourth year, and Luna into third, they decided to meet outside the Gryffindor Common Room at exactly midnight. Luna had told Neville of a Muggle fairytale that she'd discovered during the last week of the summer, where a princess goes to meet her prince but has to flee at midnight. She wanted to break the curse of those star-crossed loves, she'd written. Neville had practically glowed at how she'd written love in pink ink. He hoped one day, she'd write 'love' and be referring to him.
He hadn't forgotten his untimely departure from their ice cream date (and he only called it a date because he'd written to Dean Thomas about the event and Dean had described it as such.) He couldn't believe that he had been bare inches away from kissing Luna, the fairy girl that danced around the corridors with careless abandon for what other people thought of her. She was exactly the type of girl he admired, and wished he could be her type of boy. It seemed odd to think that this adventurous girl was interested in spending time with someone as lanky and well intentioned as me, he thought. All the girls in the lower years appeared to revere Harry Potter, who'd apparently managed to master a Patronus Charm at the mere age of thirteen, a magical feat previously unheard of.
Still, Harry Potter was much to focused on the imminent threat of the Dark Arts to be worrying about procuring a girlfriend, and Luna wasn't the type to dote on heroes, was she?
The first day back at school dragged on, feeling longer than the Sorting Hat's ceremonial song, which had been exceeding tedious. Even though the majority of the students were buzzing about the upcoming Triwizard Tournament, and trying to catch the attention of the Beaubatons girls, Neville couldn't care less. It led to him becoming very distracted, even in his favourite subject, Herbology. Professor Sprout had been sympathetic, when he'd got bitten three times by a Snapping Pottleby, saying that it took a while for students to regain their school heads. Neville had just nodded, willing to agree with any excuse given, so he didn't have to admit he was dying to see a certain someone with golden locks.
After what seemed like an eternity, students retired to their common rooms. Most Gryffindors were so tired from the first day of work that they quickly went to bed, except Hermione Granger, who stayed up an extra half hour to finish some Ancient Runes homework that had been assigned that day. It was so like her to already be on top of all her work, Neville thought.
Hermione gave Neville a friendly nod when she retreated to the fourth year girls' dormitory, finally leaving him alone to sneak out. It would completely ruin the reputation he'd earned himself in his first year if Hermione caught him trying to sneak out, as he'd been the one to impede on her, Harry and Ron escaping to the forbidden third floor.
Luckily, the Fat Lady was more than acquainted with Neville after their late night run-ins the previous year, and had stayed up later than usual, expecting him to be convening with Miss Lovegood.
"Well, I can't say it's a pleasure to see you again, boy," she said. "It's only the first day of term and you're already completely ruining my sleep pattern."
"I'm sorry," Neville said sheepishly, "but this year, I really think-"
"Don't tell me," the Fat Lady said, "the two of you and your midnight meetings are finally going to get a label." She laughed.
Neville shrugged his shoulders. His grandmother had always told him that fourteen was too young to have a 'girlfriend', and that seemed like to intimate a label for Luna and himself just yet.
"Alright, be coy, but I have a bet going with the rest of the paintings on this floor that you'll get together before the first task of the Triwizard Tournament."
Neville chuckled. "Tell the other paintings that the time restraints are wishful thinking."
The Fat Lady glared at him. "Neville," she said so gently it was alarming, "you have to have some courage and ask the lady for her heart otherwise some other handsome fellow will swoop in and steal it before you even get the chance."
He nodded. Asking Luna for her heart required courage, the exact quality any other Gryffindor would normally exude. Not him – he cowered at the mere mention of a boggart, not to mention its fearful transformation. However, when it came to matters of the heart, he had to be the lion the Sorting Hat knew him to be. As he mulled this over, the Fat Lady started to hum incredibly out of tune.
"There's Miss Lovegood," she said, having spotted Luna, skipping down the hall in a long night dress that trailed behind her, made of silk with a floral lace edging. Her feet were adorned with lilac high-tops, the laces rainbow striped and daggling loose from their ties. Neville thought she looked like an ethereal princess.
"Hi, Neville," she whispered as she approached. As soon as she was close enough, she leapt into his arms. He held her in a close embrace, stroking her soft hair. He'd grown a few more inches since the last time they'd seen each other face to face, so stood a complete head taller than her. Neville liked how perfectly her arms looped around his torso, and Luna liked how perfectly his arms clung to her round the waist.
They'd continued hugging for longer than necessary, both feeling the need to make up for the lost weeks of the summer, when they were apart. It was Luna to withdraw first, only to grab Neville's hand and lead him to the nearest staircase.
The couple sat down on different steps, Luna slightly higher than Neville so she could stare into his pale green eyes.
"Tell me about your first day," she demanded excitedly.
Neville grinned, then recounted the day's events, choosing not to divulge how much he'd missed being with her, and how it had distracted his work.
Luna listened intently to his words, completely smitten with the way he spoke fast in reverence whenever the subject of Herbology was mention. She hoped that one day, she and he would go on an adventure to find new plants and creatures together – writing a book about their joint findings had quickly become one of Luna's favourite daydreams.
As they spoke, the staircases moved left and right, always returning to the same location outside the Gryffindor Common room. Luna and Neville were oblivious to anything but each other.
"What about you?" Neville asked. "How was your day?"
Luna told him of her first Divination lesson, a subject that she had taken to with more expertise than Professor Trelawney. Neville laughed in all the right places when she recounted the story of how the teacher had knocked over twelve china cups with an energetic sweep of her tasseled robes. He was incredibly understanding when she told him that Gabrielle Delacour, one of the Beaubaton student's sister, had laughed at her oversized robes in Flying lessons.
"I've missed you," she said, suddenly, the words that had been flying about her mind finally slipping out.
"I've missed you too," Neville said, completely sincere and completely overjoyed that Luna's strength of emotion was as strong as his.
They sat in contented silence for a while, before they heard a clock in a nearby classroom strike two o'clock.
"I best be getting to bed," Luna said, nodding towards the direction of Ravenclaw Tower. "I've got an early Transfiguration lesson and I'm desperate to show Professor McGonagall my collection of miniature horse mice."
"Horse mice?" Neville looked quizzically.
"Another thing I got from that Muggle fairy tale," she said, as way of explanation. "Same time tomorrow?"
"Let's go earlier tomorrow," Neville suggested. "That way we can sneak down to the Kitchens and get chocolate iced buns from Clyde."
"An excellent plan," Luna said in her gentle voice. She leaned forward as she did on the day of the ice cream date. This time, Neville did not hesitate from planting a small kiss on her cheek while clutching her hand tightly.
Luna smiled, then returned the kiss on his cheek, leaving him with a warm glow to his cheeks.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Neville!" she said softly, reluctantly retreated towards her common room.
"Tomorrow, my princess," Neville whispered at her retreated figure. He smiled giddily at the Fat Lady as he returned to his own bed.
The Fat Lady clapped her hands as soon as the secret entrance way swinged shut. She shouted to a painting across the corridor, "Harold, you owe me ten sickles!"
