Title: Nargles
Author: bookworm835
Rating: K for fluff and stuff
Categories: Humor/Romance
Summary: His heart had raced when she murmured, "Look, Neville, mistletoe..." Much fluff. Set during Order of the Phoenix. NL/LL
Disclaimer: Fiction
A/N: I am mostly writing this because I have to let people know that no, I am not dead, simply too lazy to write anything longer than this. I'm actually not even into Neville/Luna. I personally think Neville has a crush on Hermione, since his gran said that Neville had told her all about her, but oh well, when I reread the Order of the Phoenix and Luna commented about nargles in the mistletoe, I had to write something with Luna. Oh -- one last thing. I don't know why, but I just can't bring myself to imagine Neville as "plump", or whatever. Round-faced, yes. But not fat, in any way whatsoever. Also, I don't know if Neville's hair color has ever been mentioned, but I myself like his hair the way Matt Lewis has it. So... yeahhh... moving on.
His heart had raced when she murmured, "Look, Neville, mistletoe..."
Most of the students had already left for the holidays. It had taken Neville an extra day, at his grandmother's request, to stay and check to make sure he had not forgotten anything. Regret bubbled in his stomach, making him feel slightly nauseous. Then again, maybe it wasn't regret that was making his heart do flips.
Neville and Luna stood precariously on the treshold of Hogwarts -- Neville in his woolly all-too-small jacket and scarf, Luna dressed simply in a sweater and jeans. She had that ridiculous necklace of butterbeer caps around her thin neck and she was hugging her arms around herself against the cold temperatures. Snow gently drifted down around them, glittering and winking in the dim morning light. It was oh-so peaceful, and Neville couldn't have felt more anxious.
"I, uhm... I have to go, Luna," Neville said hastily, tugging at his trunk, edging away from the small bunch of green above his head. "My gran'll be worried I got lost or something, if I don't get home soon..." He trailed off lamely. She gazed at him with mild interest. Neville rambled on, his face bright scarlet, as he tried awkwardly to make a bit of a comfort zone between them. He slurred his words together, fidgeting ceaselessly with a tassle on his scarf. "I'll -- well, I s'pose I'll see you after the holidays. I'll be, uh, busy so I won't be able to write or anything. Not that I have an owl -- my gran does, though -- named Frankie. Named after my dad, actually, umm... Yes, I told my gran that I didn't think it was very polite, or honorable, or whatever she thought it was, to name a messenger bird after my dad. She wouldn't listen, though, and told me I should stop being ashamed of my parents. I told her I wasn't ashamed, but I thought -- I, um -- I think..." Tongue between his teeth, he stared blankly at Luna, who was blinking slowly, and sighed. "I think I'll shut up now," he finished. He twisted the tassle between his fingers, begging desperately for someone to come save him.
Finally, Luna broke the silence. "That's very nice, Neville."
"Well, I -- um. Thanks."
Luna tilted her head to the side and surveyed Neville up and down, making Neville feel even more self-concious. Eventually her gaze rested on his chocolate-brown eyes, and she smiled faintly.
"Mistletoe," she continued, making Neville groan inside, "is the home of nargles, you know. They can be dangerous and attack without warning, so it can be good to avoid mistletoe."
Neville let out a heavy sigh of relief. "Right, then I'll just be on my way --"
Luna hadn't seemed to have heard him. "However, nargle attacks are easily avoided by the, ehem, exchanging of saliva."
Rip.
The scarf's tassle went flying.
Neville, horrified, let out an involuntary yelp and dropped his heavy trunk on his toe. As he hopped about on one foot, howling in pain, Luna went on dreamily, almost in a trance, oblivious to what was happening around her.
"It's quite fascinating, really. My father wrote a few articles about them. I will show them to you sometime, for sure. Nargles can cause infectious diseases -- their claws are quite frightening -- Neville, don't you want protection?" She seemed to have finally gotten a grip of what was going on. She grasped Neville's wrist and steadied him. "Don't you want to connect lips with me?"
Neville swallowed painfully hard, his mouth dry, a lump stuck stubbornly in his throat. He croaked hoarsely, "Y-y-you mean... kiss me?"
Luna looked delighted. "If you insist," she giggled, leaning into his chest and puckering her lips.
Whimpering, Neville squeaked, "Oh my God!" and pushed Luna away. He didn't know why, but kissing a girl a year younger than him seemed extremely wrong. He knew he was being stupid -- nearly all the married adults he knew were different ages -- and he even took Ginny Weasley to the Yule Ball when she was only thirteen! Luna was now fourteen, gawky but with pretty, inviting lips. Mind buzzing, Neville demanded in a voice he had imagined much sterner, "What are you doing?"
Unfazed, Luna said, "I really am quite fond of you, Neville. Are you fond of me?"
His voice an octave higher than normal, Neville said shrilly, "D'you mean -- honestly, Luna! D'you mean, do I... I love you?"
Rather pleased, Luna said, "Why, Neville! This is all so sudden." She tittered giddily, her eyes bulging and quite menacing. "I never would've guessed. But if you are sure..."
Flustered, Neville cried miserably, "Luna, I -- I've never really thought of you like this, y-you know?"
Wiggling one pale eyebrow thoughtfully, Luna mused aloud, "I haven't been to Hogsmeade for a while; a quaint date at Madam Puddifoot's would be quite satisfying..."
"Luna, wait!" Neville jammed his hands into his dark brown hair roughly, clenched his fists, then was just about ready to rip it all out. Luna finally came to her senses, it seemed, and blinked up at Neville, a slightly pouting look on her face. Neville sighed a third time, stamping his foot in the snow, getting his socks thoroughly wet. "Luna... I... I don't know."
"So you'll kiss me, then?" Luna inquired, only moderately concerned.
Voice breaking horribly, Neville said, "Sure."
He shut his eyes, furrowed his brow and scrunched up his nose, his face going purple, and Luna informed him thoughtfully, "You look positively like a larwumple."
Neville felt like screaming. "Luna," he said in a forced calm, his eyes reopening, "I don't think I can --"
There was a screeching shriek from above. Neville's head snapped up. A sharp, leering, greenish face grinned down at him. The nargle's head was about the size of Neville's thumbnail, equipped with tiny sharp fangs and horns.
Neville's eyes bulged.
"What the --?"
In a sudden rush, he felt Luna's wind-cooled lips pressed against his. Never having kissed a girl before (his gran didn't count), Neville was absolutely shocked, mortified, completely washed over by a feeling of chagrin -- and he was loving every moment of it.
After what seemed like forever, Luna rolled back on her heels, a small smile on her face. Neville's mind was a bit slow for a moment, all thought concentrated on the throbbing of his lips and the bright pink blush on Luna's cheeks. Then he remembered the nargle and his head snapped up. Nothing was there. The small bunch of mistletoe looked as innocent as ever.
And strangest of all, nargle or no, as Neville stared steadily down at Luna he felt a curious urge to exchange saliva again.
Yes, worst ending ever, but 'twas quite fun to write. Hope it was okay; please please PLEASE review!