Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition

Seeker, Wigtown Wanderers

Prompt: Queen of Pentacles — Upright: Practicality, Creature Comforts, Financial Security

Word Count: 1685

Author's Note: I gave Luna a middle name that my friends and I headcanon as her mother's first name. I borrowed name of the Lovegood house from a thousand other stories. I didn't kill Colin Creevey (I'm still upset over that one, JKR). This is not even remotely canon compliant because that's just the way I like my fanfiction. Here's hoping you'll like this little slice of alternate reality too!

The Perfect Life

Neville slammed the shop door behind him and threw his weight into it. A dozen hands on the other side knocked and pushed and tried to get in to see The-Boy-With-The-Sword. Just as it felt like the ancient wood would give way, a beam of light shot out and sealed the door shut.

"More trouble with your adoring fans, Mr. Longbottom?"

He looked up at the graying wizard who owned the apothecary and sighed. "Sorry for the fuss, Angus. I won't be back in Diagon Alley anytime soon, so hopefully this will be the last time I need to hide in here."

Angus gave him a pitying smile. "S'alright, son. You know where the Floo is."

Neville slunk into the storage room. Ever since Colin Creevey had released that damn picture, everyone knew his name, wanted his autograph, hell, even tried to slip him love potions—in other words, it made his life a living hell.

Colin had caught a lot of incredible moments from the final battle that wound up on the front page of The Daily Prophet. On May 3rd, when all the world was waking up to the news that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was really and truly dead, Colin had sold The Prophet their cover shot, a magnificent picture Harry just as he defeated Voldemort. Naturally, it was already the all-time best selling edition of the newspaper.

Harry must have been a bit upset by all the attention he was getting, which didn't surprise Neville at all, because the big story on May 4th was about the unsung heroes of the war—Ginny, Luna, Auror Shacklebolt, Arthur Weasley, Professor Lupin, even the people responsible for fearlessly broadcasting the news on the wireless. But almost all of it fell away in the face of the picture.

Granted, it was an incredible picture. It perfectly captured Neville, bloodied yet triumphant, swinging the Sword of Gryffindor and decapitating Voldemort's snake with a yell that you could practically hear coming off the page. It had completely turned Neville Longbottom's world upside down.

His was now a household name. Even a month after the photo was published, he could barely come to Diagon Alley to purchase new seeds or supplies for his final year at Hogwarts without being mobbed by grateful witches and wizards. He couldn't stand it.

Neville grabbed a handful of Floo powder and took a deep breath. He didn't want to go home and face his preening Gran and the flock of old ladies she had over for tea. They were probably waiting for him to return so they could ooh and ahh and thank him for what he'd done. It was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now. Well, at least there was somewhere he knew he could escape all the hullabaloo.

He stepped into the grate, threw down the greenish powder, and called, "The Rookery!"

A few seconds later, Neville tumbled out onto the garish rug in the Lovegood's front hall. He stood and brushed the soot off his clothing, listening intently for any sign that someone was home. He didn't want to just stay there uninvited if no one was around, but he really didn't want to go back to Longbottom Manor either.

Before he could call out or send a Patronus, Winky popped to his side. "Mister Longybottoms is looking for Miss Luna, yes?"

He smiled down at the little elf who'd taken quite a shine to Luna during their year under the Carrows. "Hello, Winky. Is she here?"

"Miss Luna be down by the creek," Winky replied, nodding. "You go see her?"

"That's the plan!"

Without another thought, Neville wound his through the now familiar house, heading out the back door and down the path to the creek. He found Luna lying under her usual willow tree, staring through the thin branches at the clouds overhead. He quietly laid down next to her.

After a few long minutes, he broke the silence. "Aren't you going to ask what I'm doing here?"

"No," she murmured. "I knew you were headed out this afternoon to get your supplies for next year, and I knew you wouldn't want to deal with the crowds of people tugging at your sleeves. It's also Tuesday, so your Gran has all her 'swooning old biddies', as I believe you called them, over for tea. So I knew you'd be here eventually."

Neville chuckled. "Merlin, I love that about you."

He couldn't see her smile, but he could certainly hear it when she said, "My ability to reason?"

"That you know me so well."

Her hand sought his out and gave it a gentle squeeze.

They stayed just like that, soaking up the comfort and stillness only found in each other, until the sun finally began to set.

Neville stood and helped Luna to her feet and they walked hand in hand back toward The Rookery. When he tried to go inside, Luna stalled him in the garden.

"Let's stay outside just a bit longer," she suggested. "I'm not quite ready to let you go yet." She tugged him over to a set of patio furniture whose swirling cast iron and florid cushions made his eyes water.

He plopped down in one of the chairs and pulled her into his lap. "What's on your mind?"

She ran her hand through his hair and hummed noncommittally. "You need a haircut."

"And now you're avoiding the subject."

"I'm just concerned," she half-whispered. "The effects of Colin's picture have lasted quite a bit longer than I think either of us anticipated, and I know it's bothering you."

Neville nodded. "I really hadn't expected it to last more than a week or two, but it's been three months with no sign of slowing down."

"Do you think it will ever stop?"

"It's got to," he groaned. "I don't want to be like Harry, cooped up in my house unless I can round up a half dozen friends to go somewhere with me to protect me from the masses. That's not the kind of life I want."

Luna snuggled into his shoulder. "What kind of life do you want, Nev?"

It was a blatant attempt at distracting him, but one look at her face told him she was also genuinely interested in his answer. He'd allow it.

"I want a quiet life. I want to have all the things I need and all the people I love. I want to complete my Herbology mastery and teach at Hogwarts, which is completely reasonable because Professor Sprout practically told me she was waiting for me to finish before she retires. I want to have a good, steady job so that I'm financially stable—not so much money that it's ridiculous, but enough to have a nice home and the occasional holiday. I want practical things. That doesn't sound exciting, but it would be perfect to me."

"I see," Luna said softly. There was no mistaking the insecurity and doubt in her eyes.

Neville shook his head and reached up to cradle her face in his hands. "I also want my little creature comforts. I want a house out in the countryside where I can have a greenhouse and you can have a big library dedicated to whatever you want—creature searches, historical research, spell development, anything. I want to buy you all the little things your heart desires, like books and crazy socks and funny earrings. I want to wake up to you every morning and fall asleep with you every night. More than anything, I want you, sweetheart. Life could never be perfect without you."

Luna leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I love you too, darling."

Three and a Half Years Later

Neville opened the door, kicked off his boots, and dropped his bag on the floor of his house outside Salisbury. Professor Sprout had really enjoyed watching him slave away over his projects this week, and he was looking forward to relaxing with his girlfriend.

"Lu, I'm home!"

His voice echoed through the house, unanswered. With a knowing smile, he headed up to the library.

He found Luna poring over a half-dozen maps and at least as many books. Her wand was tucked behind her ear, and she was shifting her weight back and forth in a little cha-chaing motion. The loud, mismatched socks she favored were the icing on the cake.

"Getting ready for your trip with Katie?" he asked, shattering the silence.

Luna looked over at him and smiled wearily. "I think she's hoping we can add this trip to the book, but we'd have to push it up a bit to meet the deadline."

"Will the Umgubular Slashkilters have finished migrating to the Alps yet?"

"We think so," she said, chewing her lip, "but I suppose there's no way of knowing until we get there."

Neville walked over and wrapped her in a warm, steady hug. "Either way, I believe in you."

She gave him a little push down into her desk chair and promptly sat on his lap. "Enough about this. I know you were trying to finish up your project this week on top of teaching the first years. How'd that go?"

"You'll be happy to hear I got the last bit of it done this afternoon before I left. And the Firsties have been surprisingly great."

"Really?"

"Really." He paused and gave her a small smile. "You know, not a single one has asked about the picture or the war or anything like that."

Luna considered him thoughtfully. "It took a full two hours before someone asked for your autograph in Diagon Alley last month. Maybe it's all dying down—wouldn't that be just lovely?"

"It would make my life pretty damn perfect," he replied. "But there's just one thing I would change."

He unceremoniously lifted her from his lap, stood up, and placed her back in the chair before rushing out of the room. He came back a few seconds later and got down on one knee.

"Luna Dionne Lovegood," he said, holding out a small sapphire and diamond ring. "Will you marry me?"