Interlude- "Pandora's Poppy"
The full moon was flirting with a cloud bank overhead, and two students made their way across the Hogwarts grounds, moving carefully but calmly towards the greenhouses. One held a wand emitting a muted light before them.
When they reached the second greenhouse, the leading student opened the door, happy to see that despite the rules to the contrary, Professor Sprout had been true to her word and left the doors unfastened for him. Neville Longbottom held the door for his guest and swallowed nervously when Luna Lovegood slipped past him. Her body brushed across his as she entered the dim, fragrant greenhouse.
"All the way to the back, then to your right," he said quietly.
He followed her, and they stopped when they reached a box of pale yellow flowers set aside from the other plants in an area for special projects of the advanced students or Professor Sprout herself.
"Oh. There are flowers." Luna's voice was soft and dreamlike, neither happy nor sad.
"Well, yes, these are the ones I wanted you to see." Neville was nervous, ducking his head despite the greenhouse's tall roof. "I did tell you there were flowers."
"Oh, I know you did," Luna said, leaning back against him, "but I never know when someone tells me things if I'm supposed to believe them. People often tell me things that turn out not to be true. It's vexing."
"Why would people lie to you?" Neville struggled with the idea of secrets, but he understood they could be needed. The world was getting dangerous. But the idea of someone lying to an innocent witch like Luna Lovegood made him not just confused but angry.
"Then there was the thought that maybe coming out to look at night blossoms was a poetic way of saying, 'Fancy a shag?' I often wonder what people truly mean."
"Wait, if you thought maybe I meant… that, why would you come with me in the middle of the night?" His voice was wavering, and his face was suddenly very hot in the warm, sultry air of the greenhouse.
"I've thought about you, Neville." She was still looking at the flowers, and he was glad that he didn't have to try to have this conversation while also looking into her astonishing eyes. "So," she said, "what are we looking at?"
"It's a new poppy, a magical cross of yellow Welsh and white Himalayan. If you look at the petals, they're this solid yellow. But if you do this…" Neville opened a slatted window, and a rectangular slash of moonlight spread across the blossoms. Each flower opened, spreading its yellow blooms, now shining silver in the moonlight. Tiny pinpricks of butter-yellow light floated from each flower, spiralling into dancing flight.
"Oh. Oh, my." Luna wafted the air over the flowers towards her face and breathed deeply. Rooibos… and grudyroot? The scent put her right back in the tea room, her hand in his, and the taste of raspberries sweet on her lips.
"I hope you don't mind, but I want to call them," Neville gulped nervously. "I want to name them papaver Pandorae. Pandora's poppy, for your mum."
Luna turned and pulled Neville closer. She kissed him on one cheek, put her hand to the other, and held him for a moment. He relaxed and smiled. She realised his face was starting to thin out as he grew older. He was also growing taller, and she could see a hint of stubble on his chin. When he was angry, she could see the lurking cheekbones in his still-boyish face.
"You're starting to look like yourself," she said with dreamy satisfaction.
Neville bent again and kissed her forehead. He neither rushed nor lingered but pressed his lips warmly to her skin. "That is the nicest thing I've ever been told, Luna."
She smiled and beckoned him closer. As he leaned down further—when had Neville gotten so tall?—she whispered softly to him, her lips brushing against his ear. Her words bypassed his ears and connected directly with his brain and other vital parts of a young man's biology.
"Fancy a shag?" she asked with a hopeful smile.
Sometime later, Luna sat up and began to adjust her robes. Neville had conjured a soft bed of rose blossoms and garlands of honeysuckle, and she had pink and scarlet petals in her silvery blonde hair.
"That was lovely," she sighed.
Neville, shirtless and with a sheen of perspiration making him slick and sleek in the moonlight, sat up beside her. His hair was a wild tangle, a bit resembling Harry's, actually, but Luna thought it best not to mention that. Boys could be so delicate, she'd found.
"You're amazing, Luna," Neville said admiringly.
"Quite lovely," Luna continued, watching the lights of the Pandora poppies dance in the fading moonlight. "Though I imagine it gets better."
Neville frowned and took her hands in his.
"You didn't think that was… I'm sorry, did you not…?" He struggled to find the right words. She patted his shoulder and smiled warmly.
"It was your first time, Neville. Mine, too, I must say. It was far better than I could have hoped. You're a very sweet man."
Neville's brows furrowed, and he reached to take her into his arms.
"You deserve better, Luna." His voice was determined, strong, and very grown up suddenly. He kissed her, holding her body to his naked chest, and she could feel his heartbeat against her. The kiss was passionate, daring, and very exciting. It's a very Gryffindor sort of kiss, she thought breathlessly. Her eyes opened as Neville laid her back down into the rose blossoms when it was over.
"You deserve better," he said again doggedly, "and I want to give it to you."
Sometime even later, as the sky outside began to pale with the threat of dawn, Luna sat up again. Her hair floated in a nimbus around her head as if charged with electricity or magical energies. Her lips were red and full, almost bruised in a delightful way. She was nude, and her pale skin burned pink with a flush that refused to fade. Her rosy nipples, surrounded by slightly darker sickle-sized aureolas, were prominent in the pale light.
"Oh, my," she croaked, her voice much abused recently by panting, moaning, and calling out. "Now that was lovely!"
Neville groped for his wand in the pile of clothes nearby. As he rose to his knees, he muttered a complicated series of charms, the tip of his tongue protruding slightly between his teeth as he concentrated. Their robes rose, shook themselves free of rose petals, and delicately wrapped around their bodies. With a final flourish, a crown of yellow poppy blossoms descended on Luna's head, while a single bloom on a stem settled into a buttonhole on Neville's robes like a boutonniere.
"I suppose we ought to clean this up and try to get back before someone comes," Neville said sadly. "It's a new day."
"Isn't it, though?" She sighed with a contentment that coming from anyone else might be considered smug.
Luna took his hand, and they stood. The tall, increasingly lanky, dark-haired fifth-year Gryffindor wizard joined hands with the slender, much shorter, blonde fourth-year Ravenclaw witch, and they walked back to the castle. Despite Neville's protests, Luna carried her shoes in one hand, and her pale feet left delicate tracks across the dewy lawns. These tracks only slowly faded as the sun crested the nearby hills and cast its warmth upon the world.