Neville took a deep breath, the action inflating his cheeks before he blew the air from the side of his mouth despairingly. The dirigible plum seemed to be recovering at least. He tried to calculate the length of time it was appropriate to stand on the steps before he should knock again. He failed. The fleeting thought that he might very well be found curled up on the steps trying to sleep like he had as a child when the fat lady had refused him entry to the common room distracting him. He intertwined his hands together rubbing at his knuckles delaying for a few moments longer the second attempt to bring Luna to her front door.

The iron studded door swung open on its hinges, both halves moving together. It was Luna. He thanked Merlin and forgot to breath. Luna was wearing blue. For a moment that was all he could articulate.

Luna always looked pretty to Neville, if unconventionally so, with her layers and patterns and colours and the way her hair just waved and curled down her shoulders like she'd never thought to do anything with it. When Luna dressed up Luna tended to dress as if she was shaped like a bell but he'd liked the way when she swayed it looked like she was in the midst of the carol of the bells.

But here and now she stood in a blue dress that came in at her small waist before flaring out over her hips in a circle of blues and ending just below her knees. There were little sleeves that finished just as they touched her pale arms and he could see the cord of her butter beer cork necklace pushed down under the low collar of the dress. Even her hair had been pulled up and away from her face still curling down the back of her neck but twisted or braided or pined in some way girls seemed to understand.

He realised he hadn't said anything when he saw the small uncertain smile on her lips. Luna was never uncertain. "Hey Luna," he said sheepishly.

"Hello Neville," she answered.

"You look… I mean, you are beautiful."

"Ginny did this," she said smoothing down the sides of the skirt. "This is her dress. She said it looked better on me anyway. The dress is lovely but I'm not sure about the shoes. Ginny says I have to wear shoes and they cannot be trainers, even if the trainers have sparkles on them." He looked to where she indicated and there on her feet were a pair of white shoes, her toes peeking out the front of them. They had heals raising her up an inch or so from the ground. Ginny did know what to do.

"Maybe," he said taking her hands to help her down the stairs, "you can kick them off under the tablecloth when we get to the restaurant?"

"Do you think I could?" she asked as if she might need to ask Ginny's permission.

"Depends how long the tablecloth is I suppose."

"You look very nice too Neville, very much like someone who goes to restaurants."

"Ah… thanks?" he said licking his bottom lip and wanting to remove the light grey coat he'd brought with him. They reached the bottom of the steps and he let her hands go. "You know, you might not like the shoes but they do make you a little taller."

"I'm not taller Neville I'm just standing on tip toes."

"Yeah, I meant… It's easier to do this," he reached down and tilting her face upwards kissed her, only noticing that her familiar earrings of dried fruit were missing when his fingertips grazed her earlobe. It made him a little sad that in her eagerness to make Luna up Ginny had lost a little of what made Luna Luna.

"Oh," she said smiling a little. "I still don't like the shoes though."

"I think I can cope without the extra help," he said taking her arm in his to apparate to Diagon Alley from there it would be a short walk to the restaurant.

Baiser de la Veela had not been what he'd expected. There had been white tablecloths and candlelight which after all were supposed to be romantic; at least that's what he'd always thought. The Baiser however was small, full of heavy wooden beams and dark nooks; it felt like dining in a time long ago rather than the modern sophistication he'd imagined when Seamus had suggested it. It was cosy rather than elegant and the way the husband and wife who ran it kept looking their way made him suspect Seamus had told them about this dinner or that it was obvious he had no idea what he was doing. Neither thought had been particularly comforting.

When he looked at the menu to find it was entirely in French he had licked his bottom lip and tried to remember the little French he had from before Hogwarts or had caught from the Beauxbaton's girls cluttering the hallways. Luna from a carefully hidden pocket in the folds of her dress produced her wand and with a small tap his menu translated itself into English. He'd smiled gratefully at the small witch; he would not be eating snails tonight.

Dinner was pleasant, not perfect. He had little appetite so ate little of the rich old fashioned French cuisine. He was glad for it when he did not feel uncomfortably full. Luna for her part was more interested in the desert menu than the bouillabaisse, venison or gruyere soufflé.

He felt his awkwardness dissipate with her conversation which was more a stream of consciousness than the product of someone who censored their thoughts. The candlelight had danced on her skin like firelight had in the Hog's Head, but it was not perfect. He did not know what perfect would look like but he was certain he had not managed it and all too soon he had to return her.

In the darkness outside her home he held on to her well after the discomfort of apparition had subsided. He knew he didn't want to let her go. He didn't want a goodnight kiss and another long night of unhappy sleep and her absence.

Luna kicked off the white heeled shoes and tugged on his arm. "There's something I want to show you."

"What?" he asked

"You'll see," she replied drawing him down the hill opposite to her bedroom window and leaving the shoes far behind her. It was dark even with the moonlight but she seemed to know where she was going. Abruptly out of the grass they came to a low bridge over a little river. Balanced on the balustrades were three old pickle jars and Luna fetching her wand again from her pocket produced a little ball of flame in each one. With the moon the light was now enough to see the wooden bridge over the gently running water. It was enough to see Luna watching him.

"This is my favourite place in all the world," she said spinning gracefully her dress flowing out in a full circle. It was calm here, a certain softness to the world.

"I can see why."

"I'm so glad. It would be very sad if you couldn't." He leaned over the weathered hand rail.

"I could just sit here forever."

"Then do," she said dreamily.

"I'm not sure that would make for the most productive life."

"Then sit a while longer, life can wait… yes?" As she said it he knew that he wanted life to wait. So he stepped off the bridge, settling himself against the grassy bank and balling his grey coat behind him. He loosened his tie and started rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. She grinned as he did so.

"Life can wait," he agreed.

She swayed softly alone on the little bridge. He watched her for a while. It was easy here, whilst they listened to the crickets and let life wait, to be silent. "You move in time with something," he said not having meant it to be out loud.

"Mmm, can't you hear it? The movement of the water, the rhythm in voices of the crickets and the frogs, the breeze moving through the trees, if you listen you can dance to it," her eyes were unfocused as she continued her graceful turn. He listened for a moment and though he didn't hear the music she could hear there was an order to it. She was not moving to silence.

"I thought you didn't like dancing?"

"Why do you think that?"

"You said. Well, you said you wouldn't have minded not dancing if Harry had taken you to the Yule Ball."

"You took Ginny." She gave him a small half smile.

"She was good to me. I stepped on her toes a couple of times but… I reckon we got pretty good at it."

"Was it fun?" she asked curiously for a moment leaning out of the shadows towards him.

"Luna?"

"Yes"

"Would you like to dance?"

"You can't hear the music," she said softly.

"Then you hum. I think I can work it out from there."

She stopped swaying. "You want to dance?"

"I want to dance with you." He stood up drawing her towards him. He settled one hand on her waist and taking her hand in his other, he nodded. "Your hand goes on my shoulder." He could feel her uncertainty as she placed her hand where he'd instructed. The humidity had made their hands damp. She blinked up at him. "You need to hum," he reminded her gently, "I can't make music out of sound like you can."

And she hummed, an odd lilting tune but it had a rhythm and that was all he needed, guiding her back and forth on the bridge before turning gently. And she glowed even as she stepped on his toes in her bare feet. Feeling a little fearless he let go of her waist rolling her in to him and then spinning her back out along the bridge. She laughed as she wobbled unsteadily for a moment. He tugged her back towards him underestimating his pull she collided against him.

"I'm slippery," she said pressing her hand to his sternum.

"It's warm out," he said, "and I'm not the best dancer."

"Oh no, you are a lovely dancer." He hadn't let go of her hand and despite the sticky humidity he felt he could hold her here till morning.

"It's too hot," she said quietly.

"Oh." He released her. She took a step back from him a little more into the shadows cast by the pickle jar lights. Reaching up behind her she unzipped the borrowed dress. It didn't slip from her body like he'd imagined a dress would in those dreams he hadn't wanted to wake from. Instead Luna tugged at the sleeves and wiggled until she could step out of the material. Picking up the blue now shapeless dress from the ground she handed it to him.

He tried to tell himself that the same amount of Luna was showing as if she was wearing a bathing suit but his body did not believe him. He tried to focus on the slight stiffness of the fabric in his hand or the way it reminded him of a robin's egg but his body would not let him.

Luna in moonlight and white cotton underwear eased herself between the balustrading, under the hand rail and into the water below. And Neville stood blankly holding Luna's borrowed dress not daring to move lest it make it unreal.

"Uh Luna? What are you doing?" he called into the darkness.

"Cooling," her lilting voice came back to him.

"Yeah, right. Alright but um…." It's dark. You took your clothes off in front of me. I'm seventeen, I'm a bloke, you do realise that right? I'm not sure I can handle you taking your clothes off in front of me. Do you even know what's in that water? Am I supposed to just stand here and hold your clothes? You took your clothes off in front of me!

She splashed him. Standing in water that came up under her arms she dragged her hand across the surface gaining enough momentum to throw the water right at his chest. When he found her face at the water's edge she stared back innocently. "Luna!"

"Neville!" she smiled.

"Come out of the water."

"Come into the water." She splashed again this time giving him enough warning to throw the dress in front of his face. "You've made Ginny's dress all wet."

"I reckon you did that."

"Oh no," she disagreed, "I took the dress off so it wouldn't get wet. You made it wet."

"Luna!"

"Neville!" she echoed.

Something inside him gave. The frantic energy he'd felt on the end of the covered bridge, he remembered throwing himself forward on the balls of his feet and demanding what army was going to take his school from him. That same energy pushed him off the little bridge as he pulled his waistcoat and shirt over his head, kicking off his shoes and socks and finally his trousers before wading into the murky water to find her.

It was the laughter and splashing that made him grab her, pulling her hands from the dark water he held her wrists above her head preventing any more attacks.

And then because she was there, dewy from the splashing, still giggling and because he noticed there were two small pink bows on the straps of her bra and because the moonlight made her pearlescent he kissed her. Leaning down in waist high water in his pants and nothing else he kissed her and felt her kiss him back.

He let go of her wrists tangling his arms around her feeling the damp slipperiness of her skin. She slid her own arms around him, down his arms and across his chest. He wondered if there was some way he could bring her closer. He heard it, pulling her into him, her small sound of longing.

The next time he opened his mouth the words that had been there for weeks came rushing out.

"I love you."

Luna froze in his arms.

"You don't have to say that," she said.

His arms dropped, his knees made to buckle. "Righ'," he said in a voice that was not his own. Turning in the water he waded back to his clothing. All he could hear was his own heartbeat in his ears.

Stepping on to the bank he turned for half a second. She was still standing in the water. Her eyes full with grief and in that instant she reached out for him. For all the betrayal he felt he could not leave her. Instead of pulling his clothes back on he sunk to the ground, cradling his head in his arms. She moved towards him.

She was damp but soft and warm and she knelt beside him taking his arms from his face. He turned to look at her, her expression thoughtful she ran her fingertips across his brow as though she was attempting to smooth out his hurt. Without another word she slipped her hand behind his neck pulling him towards her and pressing her lips to his.