Upon hearing that his assistance was needed, Neville definitely rose to the action. At the evening of Hermione and Ron's wedding, he strolled onto the lawn - a large tent which was already illuminated by a series of floating lanterns - dressed in a pure-white suit, with his nicest yellow tie draped around his neck. His hair, messy as it usually was, had been sleeked back with much difficulty. Though not entirely cocky, when he looked at himself in the mirror before apparating, he thought he looked fairly handsome.
Mrs. Weasley, her hair in different directions and graying, waited for him, wearing long robes of aqua-green. She beamed at him as soon as her eyes met his. "Neville, dear!" she pulled him into a hug, pressing her lips to both of his cheeks. He pulled back, his face flushed with red, and laughed awkwardly. "So glad you could make it! Sorry about the short notice! Hermione and Ron feel really bad about this. Really, rea -"
"It's fine, Ma'am," Neville said, trying his best to smile. "I'm glad I could help!"
Mrs. Weasley patted his cheek with another flurry of apologies, then turned to welcome the other guests. Neville waited for someone he knew, but instead he lost himself amidst a crowd of witches and wizards that must have been from the Ministry. Each wore fluro-coloured robes that trailed behind them, and shot him looks of discontent whenever he stepped on their clothing.
That's when he stumbled out of their way, turned towards the gates, and locked eyes with the girl he had, for some reason, not been expecting.
Silvery with liquid blue, glittering in the moonlight which she was named after; ringlets of platinum blonde framed her face, twirling down her back and ending tied in a yellow ribbon bellow her rear. Her dress cut off shortly below her knees, and was a beautiful golden colour that looked - in Neville's opinion - simply gorgeous along with her silver jewelry. He swallowed hard, fully sure that his face had gone even redder.
Luna Lovegood analysed him with an identical expression. Her pale cheeks seemed to take on a faint pinkish glow, and she sent a broad smile in his direction. She walked over to him, almost like gliding, and Neville wiped his now-sweaty palms on the sides of his pants.
"Hello, Neville," she said, her voice graceful and silvery. "It's been quite awhile, hasn't it?"
He nodded, licking his dry lips. "Y-Yeah," he spluttered, messing up his hair. "How's everything been, Luna?"
"Alright, I suppose. It's unfortunate about my Father, though..." her words faltered.
"Oh - I - er - yeah, I heard about that. Sorry..." Neville said, almost awkwardly.
"It's fine, Neville, really," Luna said, sounding perkier again. "Are you here with anyone? How's Hannah going?"
Crap.
"Hannah... I think she's okay," said Neville, "She and I... we kinda..." He let his words trail off, and then spoke again. "What about you and Rolf? How are you and him going?"
She gave him a sad smile. "We've taken what he calls a 'break'. He's gone off to Australia to look for some creatures, but beforehand we had a little bit of a fight. It's fine," she added quickly.
"Oh," Neville said, "Well - well maybe we could..." He offered her his hand, and suddenly the breeze was so much cooler against his skin, which was probably now bright red in colour. He waited for a moment, feeling stupid for even offering, and then she laced her narrow fingers with his, and yet another flood of warmth shot through his body.
"I would love to, Neville Longbottom."