Neville knocked at the door again a third time, fully aware that only a few seconds had passed since the last time he'd knocked, but too anxious to stand patiently.

"Hold on," came Ginny's irritated voice on the other side of the door. He could hear the latch being worked and then the door opened. "Neville? Is something wrong?"

Neville brandished the envelope in his hand. "This is the third one that's come back. Maximus may not be a young owl, but he's never had trouble finding her before."

"I know," Ginny said gently as she stood aside, gesturing him into the house. "But this isn't exactly an uncommon occurrence. It's not the first time she's just disappeared."

"It's the first time my owl hasn't been able to find her," Neville replied insistently. "He's found her in Canada, he's found her in Venezuela, and until two months ago he found her in Australia. As I can't ask my owl what he's seen, I'm just going to have to go myself. I've got three weeks before I have to be at Hogwarts. Do you mind terribly if I borrow Harry?"

"What about borrowing me?" Harry's voice sounded from the sitting room. Neville shouldered through the doorway past Ginny.

"I need your help to find Luna," he said, striding into the sitting room. "You're good at tracking people down. She's not written, and Max hasn't been able to find her for two bloody months -"

"Hang on," Harry interrupted, blinking. "Yeah, I'm good at tracking people down, but did it ever occur to you that Australia's a continent? If she's gone from one side to the other, even an owl might have trouble locating her."

"For two months?" Neville asked plaintively. He ran a hand through his hair, vaguely aware that he'd begun to pace. "Hedwig could find Sirius when he was on the run from the Ministry, for fuck's sake -"

"Sirius knew to reveal himself to her," Harry interrupted, his voice brittle. Neville dimly realized that he'd uttered two of the names that put Harry's hackles up, and almost apologized before realizing what Harry was saying.

"Are you saying Luna doesn't want letters from me?" he demanded. "That she's purposefully not taking my post?"

"She might not realize it's Max -" Ginny began from the doorway, but Neville spun on the spot and cut her off.

"He's a ruddy great horned owl, he's pretty damn distinctive, and Luna - she'd want to hear from me, she'd at least take the letter even if she couldn't write back just then..." He jumped when Ginny stepped forward and put both hands on his shoulders.

"Neville," she said, firmly but gently, "This is what she does. You know this. We all know this. She's fallen off the face of the earth before, sometimes for months."

Neville took a great huffing breath, the back of his throat aching. "We weren't dating before," he said, slightly ashamed to hear his voice breaking on the last syllable. Ginny's lips twisted into an expression of pity and she drew him into a hug that was oddly reassuring.

"Luna... no offense to her or anything, but the comfort of others is not foremost on her mind," Harry said hesitantly as he rose from the couch and patted Neville awkwardly on the shoulder.

"I thought it'd be different, this time," Neville mumbled. He closed his eyes as Ginny let go, taking a slow, deep breath to steady himself.

"If it'll make you feel better, I know the spell Mum uses for her clock," Ginny offered. "That way you can know she's okay."

"Yes," Neville said immediately, his eyes popping open. "Please."

"I'll need something of hers," Ginny said. "Blood's best, but I doubt you've got any of that lying around, unless your relationship is really creepy. A hair'll do."

Neville nodded. "Right. I'll be right back."

Ginny shook her head. "Best I go with you. You can't really move the charm that well once it's cast, unless you shield it, and I don't know how to do that." She looked around him at Harry. "Bacon's in the pan. Make sure it doesn't burn, will you?" Harry nodded and slipped from the room. Ginny took Neville's arm and gently led him from the house to the Apparition point.

"Now don't move it," Ginny cautioned him, a short time later. "Just leave it on the wall." She studied her handiwork for a moment before nodding in satisfaction. "Not as fancy as Mum's, maybe, but it'll do what you need it to." She pointed at the hands of the gold pocketwatch that was now hanging from a nail on the wall of Neville's sitting room. "So long as both hands are pointing to twelve, she's safe. If they're both pointing at six, she's in danger."

Neville felt only slightly reassured that the hands were steadily pointed at the twelve: it only meant that for some reason, she wasn't accepting his letters. "And if she's..." He couldn't bring himself to say it.

Ginny knew what he wanted to ask anyway. "Then the hands will just drift anticlockwise."

Neville nodded, staring at the hands of the watch. He hardly noticed when Ginny reached out and squeezed his forearm.

"She loves you," she said softly. "But she's just..."

"She's just Luna," Neville finished for her, slightly horrified by the bitter note in his voice. "It's what she does. Yeah, I know. Everyone keeps telling me that, as though it's a comfort."

"That wasn't what I was going to say, actually," Ginny replied. "I was going to say that she's just trying to figure out who she is. Same as you. Same as all of us." She gave his arm another squeeze before letting go. "Be patient with her. She deserves that, and so do you."

Neville gaped at her. "How is it that you Weasleys seem to have this hidden font of wisdom to draw from?"

Ginny shrugged. "I watched my brothers make a lot of stupid mistakes, and I listened to my mother." She peered shrewdly at Neville. "Are you going to be all right? You're not going to go haring off to Australia when my back is turned, are you?"

"Don't see why I shouldn't," Neville mumbled, glancing at the watch. "She told me I could come along. I've got time now."

"Yes, well, there's a wedding in a week that I doubt you want to miss," Ginny pointed out.

"True," Neville admitted grudgingly. "I think Hermione would have my head off if I didn't come."

"Are you kidding? You'd be unbalancing her side. I'm not sure you'd have a body left for us to bury." Ginny punched him playfully in the shoulder as she made her way to the door. She paused with her hand on the knob. "Neville?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"You can always come over anytime, you know. If you're lonely."

Neville forced what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. But thanks." Ginny shrugged and opened the front door.

"See you later, then," she said, and the door closed behind her with a heavy click.

Neville sank into a chair and tossed the undelivered letter on top of the other two on the low table in the sitting room, massaging his eyes now that his hands were free. A quick glance told him that, yes, both hands on the watch were still pointed at twelve.

Why was she avoiding his letters? Was she really that busy? Or was there another reason?

Neville sighed heavily and reached out to pick up a Herbology text. At least he could be doing something useful with himself.

"There you are, Neville. Does the vest fit? It looks good with your robes. Did you get your boutonniere? Molly's got them, I think. You know who you're walking with, right?"

Hermione said all of this very quickly as Fleur followed her around the room, attempting to fix a veil to her hair. Neville looked down at himself.

"It fits fine, I guess. Were you looking for me?"

"What? Oh, no, I was just wondering where you were, but I suppose you were with the boys. So you're going to be walking with Percy, you'll be third down the aisle. Now obviously you're not going to be taking his arm, that would just be tremendously awkward, and you know your musical cue to start walking, yes?"

Once again, this was all delivered very fast. Neville reached out and put his hands firmly on Hermione's shoulders. She threw him a quizzical look.

"Hermione. Breathe. I think you're about to fly to pieces if you don't."

"I 'ave been telling her that all morning," Fleur said, finally taking her hands down from her work on Hermione's veil. "She is more nervous than I was."

"You look great," Neville offered, lowering his hands. "Ron'll be speechless when he sees you."

"Really?" Hermione smiled shyly as she looked down at her white gown, smoothing it at the hips with her hands.

"Really." He caught Ginny's eye in the corner and grinned. "I'm sure Luna will forgive me if I say you're the prettiest woman in the world right now. You're allowed to be, on your wedding day."

"Oh, that's a load of tosh," Hermione said dismissively, but she couldn't hide the way she shot a satisfied glance at herself in the mirror. He smiled to himself and stepped back as the door to the room opened and Molly swept in, fussing with the sleeve of her robe. She beamed when she saw Hermione, and barely glanced at Neville as she handed him his boutonniere.

"Shall we head downstairs then?" She asked as she looked Hermione up and down. "All the guests are here and seated. We can start whenever you're ready."

"Oh, goodness," Hermione said, fanning herself with her hands.

"Stop that," Ginny said, handing her a bouquet of white lilies. "It'll be fine."

Hermione continued to waver on the edge of hyperventilating for the next quarter of an hour as Neville and Harry and Ron's brothers puzzled out how one was supposed to attach a boutonniere, finally resorting to sticking charms rather than the fiddly pin they came with. Ron was, of course, nowhere to be seen, kept separate from the wedding party in amused obedience to the Muggle tradition of not seeing the bride until she walked down the aisle.

They had all lined up at the entrance to the marquee, by what appeared to be height. Hermione stood at the back with her father, looking more and more flustered by the second, and Neville wondered if maybe he shouldn't have given her a Calming Draught when the music began and suddenly she looked completely composed and relaxed.

Harry and Ginny walked through the marquee flap first, followed closely by Fleur and Bill. At the next phrase of the music, Neville shot a glance at Percy, who nodded. They strode through together and began the slow walk down the aisle to the altar.

Neville wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to be doing with his hands. The bridesmaids all had bouquets but he'd have looked a prat with one, so his arms dangled at his sides and he was suddenly very aware of them. A sidelong glance assured him that Percy looked about as uncomfortable as he felt. Neville looked around at the guests gathered. There were a great deal - the Weasley family was large, of course, but though Hermione couldn't have most of her Muggle family in attendance aside from her parents, she was quite popular at work. There were a number of friends and former classmates to fill out her side of the marquee. He recognized most of the ones from Hogwarts, at least, and he was about to turn his head back forward when his eye caught a crown of white-blond hair and he nearly stumbled.

No. It couldn't be. That was impossible. She was on the other side of the world.

Luna turned in her seat and saw him, and the smile that spread across her face was like the sun coming up, making his knees go weak and his heart begin to thud. She waved energetically and Neville raised his hand in amazement, and then he had walked past her row and he forced himself to continue forward, only glancing back over his shoulder once.

"What's she doing here?" he hissed at Ginny when he'd taken his place next to Fleur at the altar. Ginny shrugged. He faced forward, his eyes seeking her out in the crowd, right there in the fifth row. She hadn't taken her eyes off him, a soft, dreamy expression on her face. He almost didn't notice when Hermione began her walk down the aisle, and probably would not have had everyone not stood up.

He did try to pay attention to the ceremony, though Hermione and Ron were so involved with gazing fondly at one another that Neville doubted they'd have noticed if the entire marquee went up in flames around them. His eyes kept finding their way back to Luna's face, studying every curve of her cheekbones, his heart aching at the intense expression she was giving the ceremony, the same expression she'd turned on him so many times when they'd pored over books together. Every so often she would glance at him and the ghost of a smile would play at her eyes, and he could feel the corners of his mouth tugging in an answering smile.

After what seemed a glacial age, the officiant raised his wand and golden sparks danced over the heads of the friends and family gathered, announcing Ron and Hermione as husband and wife. If Ron and Hermione's exuberant grappling was perhaps not the most demure "You may now kiss the bride" he had ever seen, well... it wasn't as though he wasn't planning to do something very similar when he and Luna could finally come face to face.

He waited for an interminable amount of time in the receiving queue, popping up on his tiptoes every so often to try and spot a glimpse of blond hair coming through the flaps of the marquee among the sea of ginger. He smiled politely as the wedding guests passed him, shook the hands of the people who knew him - or knew of him - and then he saw her pushing aside the flap, looking at it with a detached interest before joining the queue of guests wishing the bride and her groom well.

"Luna!" Hermione exclaimed, leaning forward to look for Neville. "I didn't think you were going to make it!"

"I didn't think so either," Luna said. She studied Hermione seriously, looking her up and down. "You look like a perfect spun sugar quill," she proclaimed.

"Thank you," Hermione responded, having learned in the past several years to take a compliment from Luna as what it was rather than try to decipher it. "Neville's down along that way, he'll be so glad to see you."

"I imagine so," she said, shooting Neville a mischievous smile that made his breath catch. "Congratulations, Hermione. Ron is a good man, and I'm sure you'll train him to be a wonderful husband."

"Train me?" Ron asked, amused.

"It won't take long," Luna assured him. "And she'll make it quite painless." She went up on her toes to peck him on the cheek, ignoring his bewildered expression, and then she had turned down the line and was coming toward Neville.

He swallowed and licked his lips as she came near and then she was right there, bashful smile matching the flush of her cheeks, and over her shoulder he could see Hermione wildly gesturing at him to get out of the receiving queue. He felt a giant wash of gratitude toward her as he grasped Luna by the forearms, took several steps back out of the way, and cradled the back of her neck as he leaned down to press his lips to hers in all the kisses he'd wanted to give her for days beyond counting. His enthusiasm was matched only by hers as she clutched him tightly against her, heedless of wrinkling the fronts of their robes. He ignored the whistles and catcalls from the rest of the wedding party. He could hex Harry later. Right now, all he wanted to pay attention to was the girl in his arms.

"They've not seen each other for months," he could dimly hear Hermione explaining to someone. "And her showing up was something of a surprise."

"Ah," came the response, and Neville immediately placed the voice as belonging to Professor Sprout. "I'll have to buttonhole you later then, Professor Longbottom," she said a loudly teasing voice. Neville acknowledged with a peremptory wave, not ceasing his current ministrations, to the sound of general amusement from the onlookers.

But Luna pulled away, a look of puzzlement on her face. "Professor Longbottom?" she asked, a tad breathlessly.

"She thinks I like how it sounds," Neville explained. He half-chuckled bashfully. "She's not wrong."

"But... professor?" She stressed the title, and Neville blinked.

"Right," he said, patting at his bow tie to straighten it. "We've got some considerable catching up to do."

"I suppose so," Luna responded. "While I've been out hobnobbing with pixies you've been changing everything without telling me." She sounded vaguely affronted. Neville raised an eyebrow.

"I tried. Two months, Max couldn't deliver my letters. I wrote three," he added, slightly defensively.

"Oh, I was under a glamour," Luna said dismissively. "I'm not surprised he couldn't find me."

"For two months?" Neville blurted.

"It was a very good glamour."

"And it never occurred to you that you might tell your boyfriend you'd be completely disappearing for two months?" Neville demanded, only peripherally aware of the words that were coming out of his mouth. They'd backed away from each other, their voices gaining a tinny defensive edge, and part of his brain was waving its arms furiously, trying to steer the conversation away from this dangerous topic and back to where he could be holding her and kissing her again.

"How was I to let you know? I told you that there was an unsurprising dearth of owls in the middle of nowhere," Luna said evenly, overenunciating in the way of the very cross. He'd never heard her sound like that before.

"I don't know, maybe you could have dropped your glamour for two seconds and Apparated to a town to hire a post owl," he responded heatedly. When had he crossed his arms? Why was he glaring? Why was he saying these things now?

Harry apparently agreed with Neville's inner thoughts: he'd stepped over to them and had a hand on each of their shoulders. "Not the time," he said in his low, stern Auror voice, looking between the two of them, the veneer of authority putting an abrupt halt to whatever Luna had been about to say in response. Neville shot a guilty glance at Hermione and Ron, both of whom were pretending to ignore what had been going on behind them.

Luna shrugged and stepped forward, putting her arms around Neville's torso. "I missed you," she said, in a tone that betrayed none of the defensive steel it had contained half a minute ago. Neville smiled faintly and uncrossed his arms to wrap around her in return, willing the hot tendril of frustration unfurling in his ribs to wait.

"I missed you too," he murmured, and he closed his eyes and felt the tension in his shoulders unwind as he focused on her in his arms. He could sense Harry walking away to rejoin the receiving queue. Four months he'd been thinking about this moment, and now he'd gone and ruined it with his petulance. He stroked her hair softly and resolved not to lose his temper with her again over something that, apparently, was not the gross transgression he'd thought it to be.

"Shall we go join the party?" he asked as he heard Molly and Arthur begin to call everyone back into the marquee for the reception. "I'd love the opportunity to dance with my girlfriend."

"I think we shall," Luna responded warmly. She stepped back and he whimsically offered his arm, and they strolled to the marquee together.