Fic: Acceptance [Mature] Neville/Luna
Title: Acceptance
Pairing: Neville/Luna
Rating: Mature
Word Count 7600
Summary: It is a rare and truly wonderful thing to be accepted for who you really are, without question. It’s also very lonely to find such acceptance for a time, then have to go without.
A/N: Written for lady_green_bat the hp_summersmut exchange
Acceptance
Neville walked through the muddy streets of Hogsmeade in a bone chilling drizzle on his way to the Three Broomsticks. Spring was slow in coming this year; a fact noticeable even in his carefully climate-charmed greenhouses, and it seemed like the miserable grey, wet weather would never end. It was hard not to feel a bit of self pity in this weather, and he hoped a trip to the pub would help cheer him up some.
Entering the pub, warmth and light surrounded him, and Neville’s lips quirked in a small smile. Rosmerta always kept the place well lit. It was hard not to be cheerful and at ease when you stepped inside. He flipped back the hood of his cloak and sidled past a couple full tables on his way to a booth near the back. Though he certainly would never call it his booth, he didn’t come often enough to be so presumptuous, but partway through his first year as a professor at the school he started sitting near the back, out of the way, but a good place for observing. He wasn’t fond of being in the midst of the crowd, and only tolerated it on the odd weekend he was chaperoning older students in the village and stopped in with some of the other professors. Most often, he came on his own, needing to get away from the castle for a few hours every couple weeks.
Before he had even hung up his cloak and sat down, Rosmerta bustled over and set a large mug of butterbeer on the polished tabletop. She smiled warmly at him, saying, “Here’s your usual there Neville. Miserable weather we’ve been having.”
Neville nodded and gave her a half hearted smile. “Yeah, Thanks.”
Sitting down and sliding across the smooth leather seat to the far end of the booth, he looked at his drink and frowned. The idea of coming to the Three Broomsticks was always better than the reality. While he liked it here far better than in the dingy, uncomfortable environs of the Hogs Head, there were little things that bothered him. It had started after the first visit he made with the professors the week before school started the year he began teaching. Rosmerta had cheerfully taken their orders and served them all, but while she addressed all the others by their title, he was still just Neville. It hadn’t bothered him at the time, but after nearly eight years she still did it. On nights when he came alone it didn’t bother him so much, but it stung when he was there with other professors. He couldn’t quite place why it did, he didn’t exactly stand on formality after all, but no matter how many times he told himself that it didn’t matter, it did.
Wrapping his fingers around the warm mug, Neville frowned again at the sweet, frothy liquid. He liked butterbeer well enough, but he never got the chance to order anything else, either. He had felt a pleasant little thrill the first time she had come and offered him ‘the usual.’ It was flattering in a way, but tonight he had actually wanted a nice dark ale. Most nights he wanted something other than butterbeer, but it seemed rude to send it back, so he drank it anyway, the sweetness of it leaving a heavy aftertaste in his mouth. At thirteen, he had loved it, but his tastes had matured a lot in the intervening fifteen years.
Perhaps that was what bothered him more than anything else when he interacted with people anywhere outside his greenhouses and to a lesser extent the rest of the school grounds. He was not the same person he had been at thirteen, but everyone seemed to expect him to be. He hadn’t undergone a radical change in personality, but his perspective on life had changed dramatically in his seventeenth year while living under the iron fist of the Carrows. When accolades had been given out following the Battle of Hogwarts, he had gracefully accepted the honours bestowed upon him and quietly stepped back from the lime light. He was acknowledged a hero, but he was by nature quite introverted and relieved to let someone else have the attention. Still, just because he didn’t flaunt his wartime experiences, didn’t mean they had affected him less. Nearly ten years had passed, but he still thought of those dark days often, more than anyone, save perhaps Seamus or Luna, realized.
Neville shook himself, realizing he was still staring at the untouched mug of butterbeer and pushed it away. He stood and retrieved his cloak, no longer feeling his earlier desire to sit and people watch tonight. Rosmerta came over as he tossed a couple sickles on the table and noticed the untouched drink.
“Is something wrong with your butterbeer, Neville?”
Drawing himself to his full height, he swung the cloak around his shoulders and clasped it carefully. As he stood there, looking down at the barkeep from his superior height, Neville felt a wave of adrenaline race through him. He nodded, and spoke in an uncharacteristically clipped tone. “Yes, there is. I do not care for butterbeer and haven’t since I was a student. I’ve been a professor at Hogwarts for eight years now. Good evening.”
He turned and left a startled Madam Rosmerta watching his retreating form. His heart was racing, and though it had felt good to speak his mind, he knew that in a few minutes he would regret being so rude. For the moment, however, the rush thrumming through him felt good. Good like when he had insisted on going with Harry and the others to the Department of Mysteries. Good like when he had taunted the Carrows with graffiti. Good like when he had marshalled the DA for the Battle of Hogwarts. Good like when he had kissed Luna at the victory party. Invariably, this sort of rush only felt good for a brief while and would fade into worry or embarrassment, but right now, walking through the sodden streets of Hogsmeade back up to the school, he felt alive and invigorated.
***
All his life, he had been, just Neville, clumsy Neville, forgetful Neville, not quite good enough Neville and good old reliable Neville. Few people bothered to get to know him for himself, his family included. Growing up, his Gran had always expected him to be like his father. His elderly relatives expected him to be a well mannered, tidy and bright little boy. He had been none of these things. Though they rarely said it aloud, he could always sense their disappointment. At Hogwarts, he had quickly got the reputation of being clumsy and stupid not to mention a push over. Nearly everyone had been stunned the first time he stood up to Amycus Carrow.
Neville set down his trowel and removed his gloves, pleased with the potting mixture he had made, despite his distraction. Deciding to take a small break he sat down heavily on the somewhat muddy wooden bench in the greenhouse. His Mimbulus mimbletonia had grown to an unprecedented height and girth, so much that he now kept it in the tallest of the greenhouses rather than the smaller restricted greenhouse he used for his rarer and most treasured plants. He reached out a hand and stroked the waxy surface of his first and most favourite exotic, caught up in thoughts of the past. He had been more introspective since his confrontation with Rosmerta the previous week and looking at the towering grace of his once tiny, lumpy and ugly plant brought back memories of his last few years as a student.
He had always been the odd one out in the boys of his year. Harry had Ron, Seamus had Dean and Neville was off on his own. He didn’t resent the others their close friendships, but it had been lonely to watch the others so chummy. His own best friend didn’t come along until his fifth year, and even now he was surprised at his close friendship with Luna Lovegood. She was just about everything Neville wasn’t, except unpopular, but that, he supposed, had been the start of their bond. She didn’t expect him to be anything, not well groomed, polite and intelligent nor clumsy, forgetful and predictable. She hadn’t even expected him to be nice to her when she started hanging around after that awkward train ride. Though he had initially found her perplexing to talk to, it was comfortable, at the same time, to be with someone who had no pre-existing expectations.
A slight tremor ran through the towering Mimbulus mimbletonia as Neville continued to run his fingers along the smooth, lumpy surface, smiling as his thumb traced over a stinksap blister. Even when his plant was particularly prone to bursting the malodorous sap at inopportune moments, Luna had never thought him odd for treasuring it. She accepted him as he was, at least until partway through his sixth year.
Neville sat alone at a study table away from the main section of the Library. He was close to the Herbology and Magical Creature shelves here, and few students were found in this section looking for material for their homework. He was flipping through a large, illustrated tome on the effects of bonsai cultivation on magical trees when he heard the scrape of a chair on stone floor. Looking up to see Luna settling in across from him, he smiled and nodded a greeting, before returning to his book. Last year, they had rarely interacted beyond the DA, but now, with the common enemy of Umbridge gone, everyone had gone back to their normal routine, and both he and Luna were left on the outside again. Though it wasn’t something they arranged, they often studied here together, occasionally talking, but mostly just comforted knowing someone was there.
After several minutes of shuffling papers and scribbling notes, Luna looked up at him and asked, “What is it like?”
Neville glanced back at her. “What is what like?”
“Having a memory charm on you,” she said her voice full of curiosity.
His brow furrowed. “I don’t have a memory charm on me. I’m as forgetful as ever.”
She shook her head, sending her blonde tresses flying. “Not a charm for memory, but the one blocking your memories. You know, from when you were small.”
Neville, who normally ignored Luna’s peculiar questions and bizarre statements, gave her an utterly bewildered look. “What are you talking about?”
“I was talking with father this summer, I had just had a bad dream about when my mother died, and he told me that it was better to have the awful dreams than to have had them blocked. I asked him what he meant by that, and he told me that after my mother died, a couple Obliviators came to the house to take away my memory of seeing her die. They told him it was standard procedure when children witnessed terrible things like that, but my father yelled at them and wouldn’t let them in. When they wouldn’t leave, he hexed them and chased them right off the property. I was just thinking, you must have seen some pretty awful stuff when you were small and figured they must have been blocked from you mind. It must take a very powerful charm to do it,” she observed, speaking in the most down to earth tone she had ever used.
He stared at her for a full minute before he found words to reply. When he did, all he could say was, “I have a memory charm on me?”
Luna nodded. “After Father told me, I figured you must. He said that people thought it was better for children not to remember these things until they were much older and could cope with them better, but he thought it was dangerous. He always said the mind was a delicate thing, especially in children. Anyway, how would someone who had a charm know to go in and have it removed later if they didn’t know it had been done?”
Neville was stunned. All his life, everyone had either criticized him or made fun of him for having a poor memory, but what if...
“Luna... Why? Why would they have bothered to do something like that to me? I wasn’t much more than a year old when it happened. Honestly, what would I have remembered?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea, but what do you think Harry remembers?”
“But he would have also... no. Perhaps not. Dumbledore always has his hand in Harry’s business. I doubt it’s the sort of thing Dumbledore would go along with,” he observed thoughtfully, wondering at the same time why he had not been given the same consideration. It made so much sense. His whole life he had been excessively forgetful, just like someone might be after a very strong or poorly done memory charm.
In the six weeks leading up to Christmas, he and Luna almost completely abandoned their regular homework in favour of searching for ways to reverse an old memory charm. He even went so far as to ask Madam Pomfrey if his medical records had any information about it, but she had denied him, saying if there was such a thing in is records, she was not at liberty to discuss it with him until he was of age. The day before the train left for the holidays, Luna had found a diagnostic spell that would reveal if he had altered memories, though there had been no further information on how to restore them. He went home for Christmas determined to confront his Gran about the blue fog the spell had revealed.
Neville shook himself slightly, breathing in the humid, earthy air of the greenhouse, reminding himself of the here and now. That Christmas had not been a particularly pleasant one, but he was proud of himself for confronting his Gran on the issue. It had taken him until the day before he returned to gather the fortitude to do so, but in the end she had told him Luna’s observations had been correct. She even consented to the removal of the charm when he returned to Hogwarts, though Neville had been too hurt and angry to say anything. He had only given her a terse goodbye at the train station and boarded without another word.
The memories Madam Pomfrey had exposed made a bigger difference than he could ever have imagined, painful though they were. Though Pomfrey noted that his memory had likely been permanently damaged to some extent, everything from his everyday memory to his sensory perception improved. It had made a difference in all his subject areas, but none more so than Herbology. He went from having a mere knack for plants, to having exceptional talent. He never would have thought something as simple as improved smell and touch would have made such a difference, but it was like the fuzziness of the world around him suddenly became sharp. Looking around his beloved greenhouse, he was reminded every day that it was Luna’s innocent question that had thoroughly changed his life.
Abandoning his contemplation, Neville picked up his abandoned trowel and returned to the transplanting that needed to be done before he had the fourth years in here the next day.
***
Three weeks after his sharp words with Madam Rosmerta, Neville found himself standing outside the doors of the Three Broomsticks, nervous about going inside. Headmistress McGonagall had given him a special package to bring to the proprietor that she did not wish to send by owl. He mentally kicked himself for always being too polite to refuse these sorts of requests.
Summoning his resolve, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. Neville wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the patrons didn’t cease their conversations and Rosmerta didn’t drop the bottle of firewhiskey she was pouring at the shock of seeing him. Not intending to stay, he walked up to the bar and waited patiently for her to return from serving drinks to a large group of witches who appeared to be celebrating a birthday.
As she stepped back behind the bar, Rosmerta gave him a friendly smile. “What brings you here this time of day, Professor?”
Instantly, the chunk of ice that had been in his stomach since the Headmistress had asked him to come turned into a lead weight. She was naturally such a kind woman, and he felt even worse for his earlier words. Taking out the package, he set it carefully on the bar. “The Headmistress asked me to bring this down to you. She said it was too delicate to trust to an owl.”
The woman’s eyes lit up. “Oh! It’s finished then. Wonderful. Please give her my thanks.”
“Will do,” he nodded.
Without opening the package, she carefully took it and placed it in a cupboard behind the bar. Before Neville could leave, she asked, “Can I get you anything to drink, Professor? Or do you need to get back to the school right away?”
He flushed and focused his gaze at a knot in the polished wood of the bar. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so rude to you.”
She tutted and shook her head. “No, you simply called me on something you had every right to do years ago. The apology should be mine. I would offer an excuse if I had one good enough, but the truth is it hadn’t crossed my mind. For that, I apologise. Now, can I get you anything? This one is on the house.”
Though his face was still glowing, he ordered a pint of dark ale and wound his way through the tables to his usual seat. It was a Saturday afternoon, but thankfully not a student weekend and he didn’t have rounds for several hours yet. Rosmerta brought his drink a few minutes later and returned her attention to the group, who were now well into their meals and half in their cups. The pub was busy, and there were lots of people to watch.
Though the party of witches was the rowdiest and most attention drawing group there, a smaller table with half a dozen old wizards were making frequent toasts and laughing noisily at bawdy jokes and elaborate stories. The rest of the patrons were small groups of two or three that had dropped in for a rest from their shopping. Most had several bags and packages at their feet and were chatting amiably with their companions. The one table that stood out to Neville was a couple at a small table near the front window.
The woman was quite petite and had long blonde hair, tied back in an elaborate plait and the man with her was tall and broad with sleek black hair that glinted in the sunlight. They appeared to be having an important discussion, focussing intently on each other and making broad gestures as if to punctuate a point. He wondered what they were discussing so intently. It didn’t seem to be an argument, for all it was intense, but it was more than just an animated conversation. They were an odd looking couple, for all they were attractive in their own way. She seemed almost dwarfed by his imposing size and muscles, and he looked too rough and cumbersome for her delicate beauty. Still, you could tell from the way they looked at each other they were in love, and Neville couldn’t help the small feeling of longing that pulled at his insides. He liked his job as a professor and enjoyed living at Hogwarts, but it really wasn’t conducive to finding a date... not that he had been trying that hard since his brief romance with his best friend.
The woman in by the window only bore a passing resemblance to Luna; she was too dainty and delicate looking. However, looking at the long, shimmering strands of her hair, he couldn’t help but remember what it had been like to run his fingers through silky golden strands, breathing in the scent of honey and wildflowers.
Most of his friends were just starting to move on with their lives when he first accepted Professor Sprout’s offer of an apprenticeship. Still, when the old DA got together for their annual Celebration of Survival that Seamus had started the previous year, everyone was pleased. By the time he had finished and was accepted on to teach at Hogwarts, everyone was too busy to arrange a time to get together. It didn’t bother him too much. Seamus had met him for a pint at the Leaky Cauldron and Luna said she would come up to the school to have a look at some of his latest projects. He had stood against the world with the two, and it seemed fitting that they were the ones to cheer him on, yet again.
He would have liked Seamus to come visit Hogwarts as well, but he understood his friend’s avoidance of the invitation. Seamus had been there throughout that awful year of the Carrows, encouraging him, sharing the burden of expectations and patching him up when necessary. They had each tried their best to put that time behind them, but there were moments, like when walking the hallways at night, when Neville couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder, half expecting a hex to hit him from behind. Most of the time, he could ignore it and time spent at the school had made it fade, but Seamus adamantly refused to return. He let it go, understanding not to push, but he had wanted everyone to see his work, and now it was only Luna who would come.
Not that she was ‘only Luna,’ to him. She had done more to help him become that person who stood up to the Carrows than she realized. Without her, he would have kept muddling through with his muddled mind, unaware of the possibilities. She had opened up more than just magical possibilities to him, too.
Luna had been effusive with her praise when she toured through the greenhouses, smiling widely at the variety of plants, aesthetically pleasing and bizarre alike. They had ended up in a smaller greenhouse that was not used for classes. Most of his grafting and cross-pollination experiments had started here to allow his work to be uninterrupted by students. He had come to enjoy the teaching part of his apprenticeship, but in the early days, this had been a sanctuary from the chaos of Hogwarts. The air was warm, rich and humid, filled with the scents of growing things, as well as being quiet and still. The leaves occasionally rustled from the air circulation spell that refreshed the air every half hour, but soon the leaves would still. He found his own smile broadening as he surveyed the greenhouse. He was proud of his work.
Standing near a delicate, feathery leafed bush, Luna looked like a garden sprite come to life. It had taken a few months to stop feeling awkward around her after the impulsive, joyful kiss he had given her at the victory party following the Battle of Hogwarts, but every once in a while a flush of embarrassment and nervousness would fill him when he noticed just how beautiful his closest friend had become. The shivering thrill of attraction nearly distracted him from noticing just which plant Luna was standing beside. With a start, he slipped behind her, gently trapping the hand, that had been about to touch the translucent silver bud, in his own.
She half glanced over her shoulder, asking, “What is it? I’ve never seen something like this before.”
Not releasing her fingers, he answered softly, “It’s a Sumatran Snidget Bush.”
“Oh, because of the feathery leaves. How wonderful.”
“It’s also quite sensitive to touch. It’s been at the school for years, but even Pamona has never seen it bloom. She said it has been over thirty years since it last blossomed. The bud first appeared near Christmas, and we’ve kept it in here in hopes of it actually blooming undisturbed,” he explained, leaning his chin to rest on her shoulder and focusing his gaze on the plant.
She tilted her head slightly and leaned back against him. Neville’s heart tripped, much like he expected his own feet would if he were to try to use them just now, and he tentatively brought an arm around Luna’s waist. She gave a happy sounding sort of sigh and didn’t pull away. “What will the blossom look like?”
“It’s supposed to be a lot like the leaves, sort of feathery, but a yellowy-gold in colour. It doesn’t bloom for more than twelve hours, either, so I’ve been keeping a close eye on it. I don’t want to miss it.”
She turned in his arms, no longer looking at the plant. “I’m sure you won’t miss something that special. It’s quite amazing.”
No longer certain she was still referring to the plant, Neville tried to hide his uncertainty in what he hoped would be interpreted as a friendly hug. However, a good deal more of his thoughts than was entirely proper were on how much curvier she felt than the last time he had held her so closely. When he was sure the parameters of friendly hug were well and truly at their limits, he loosened his arms to allow her to pull back. She didn’t. Instead, in her innocently knowing way, she said straightforwardly, “I’m quite ready for you to kiss me again.”
Too stunned to do anything but what she suggested, he tightened his hold and slanted his lips onto hers. Her delicate fingers threaded themselves through his hair and tugged forcefully, holding him closer. Courage and impulsiveness took over, and soon the hands that had been content simply holding her close were exploring the curves he had noticed earlier. Slipping under the edge of her blouse, his calloused fingers trailed across warm, smooth skin, far softer than he had ever imagined. A shiver ran through her as he palmed a cotton covered breast and her lips broke free of his, searing a path along his jaw and nipping at the flesh behind his ear.
Gasping at the sensation and feeling any blood that had not previously been diverted heading south, he paused in his exploration and suddenly found himself bare from the waist up, as was Luna. He briefly noted the wand being replaced to its spot behind her ear, but Neville was far more concerned with the pale, perfect expanse of skin so suddenly exposed to him. His hands still on her breasts, he brushed a roughened thumb across a soft nipple and pulled back slightly from the onslaught of kisses at his neck to watch the dusky rose skin harden to a firm peak. She gave a small squeak, followed by a hum of pleasure as he imitated the movement with his other hand.
He toyed with her breasts in fascination for some time before he noticed the delightful attack of lips on his neck had ended. Glancing up at her face, she was looking at him heatedly and made a small gesture towards a more secluded part of the greenhouse. He opened his mouth to ask her something -he wasn’t sure what precisely- but a delicate finger on his lips stopped him. Without a word, Neville guided her to a densely filled row of benevolent plants that was impossible to see from the doors.
He fumbled with his wand momentarily, and then transfigured a soft quilt with a cushioning charm that would have made his professors proud. Adjusting the corner closest to him, he glanced at Luna feeling embarrassed and unsure. Unfazed, she dropped to her knees on the quilt and toed off her shoes in a nonchalant manner that belied her topless state. At a loss, Neville followed suit and removed his own shoes before sitting down awkwardly beside her. Ignoring his discomfort, she straddled his legs, placing her breasts conveniently at face level and moving her skirt so that her the heat from her cotton covered mound pressed against the straining bulge of the erection beneath his trousers.
No longer searching for words, Neville moved purely on instinct. Capturing the stiff peak of a nipple with his lips, he laved it with his tongue, savouring the sensation, as Luna gave a whimper of enjoyment. Her hips reflexively ground against his, making him groan in turn. The sensuous play of cause and effect was a delicious torment rapidly became clutching fingers and desperate bucking hips. Despite the layers between them, the rocking of her hips became too much and before he could pull back to stop himself, Neville exploded his sticky release inside his pants.
Before he had the chance to become supremely embarrassed, determined hands were tugging at the button of his trousers and Luna pulled them and his pants off surprisingly efficiently. Free of clothing, she explored his body with hungry eyes and curious fingers. The light touch tickled as she traced small shapes down his chest and toyed with the wiry hairs that became thicker as she reached the base of his spent cock. Her fingers trailed through the sticky mess in the curly hair, capturing some on her finger. He watched, entranced, as she brought that finger to her mouth and felt his cock stirring again. She looked curiously at the liquid on her finger for a long moment before sticking the entire digit in her mouth and licked it from knuckle to tip. She gave a small frown at the taste, but returned her finger to his rapidly hardening cock, still looking curious and intrigued.
The feather light touch from base to tip was too much for Neville to bear, and in a far more graceful motion that he thought himself capable of, he flipped them over so that Luna lay on her back beneath him. A brief moment of fumbling with the fastening of her skirt and some awkward shifting and she was completely naked beneath him. Wide eyes that had always looked at him with acceptance and kindness were now focussed on him with trust and desire. Swallowing hard, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss before pulling away and exploring her body.
Until now, Neville had never really appreciated just how soft a woman’s skin was. Luna squirmed with delight as the roughened pads of his fingers traced down the silky expanse of pale skin from neck to navel. He paused there, still a bit apprehensive, before continuing lower, sliding his fingers through the blonde curls at the apex of her thighs. It was startlingly hot and moist as he drew a finger along her cleft, drawing small mews from her throat. Neither had said a word since they first kissed, and without the clumsiness of words he felt more confident, but the small sounds she made in her throat were what set his blood racing.
Spreading the flushed lips apart with one hand, he dipped a finger into the moist heat of her core. Patiently exploring each fold, she squirmed and bucked against him. A gentle brush against the hooded peak made her cry out loudly and he circled his thumb over it several more times, his painfully hard cock throbbing with each whimper and moan. Absorbed in his exploration, he was startled when her small hands grasped his, pulling them away from her center. He met her eyes, a thrill racing through him at the look of eager desperation on her face, and dipped his index finger into her once more. Lifting his hand, he stared for a moment at the way his finger glistened with moisture before sticking the finger into his mouth and sucking. It was a musky sort of flavour, different from anything he had ever tasted, but not unpleasant. Further contemplation, however, was cut off as small fingers pulled at him urgently, guiding him to lay nestled between her thighs.
He had rarely given Luna’s size much thought, but hovering over her, Neville noticed just how slight she was. A momentary thought that he might crush her entered his mind, but was chased out just as quickly when a heel pressed against his buttocks and her hips flexed beneath his. Like so many other times in his life where he felt he should know what he was doing but couldn’t seem to manage, Neville fumbled clumsily. He tried to position himself a few times, thrusting forward, but missing the mark. Even though he knew Luna so well, he half expected her to laugh at his awkward attempts.
Squeezing his eyes shut, arms trembling slightly as he braced himself, he felt a gentle kiss at the corner of his mouth. A hand caressed down his bare back, then slipped between them, guiding him into place. A canting of hips and nudge from a foot, and he pushed deeply into the welcoming heat. Though he wanted to savour the sensation and take his time, the first thrust began a primal rhythm that he was at a loss to control. Tingles of magic raced along his skin, heightening all of his senses to the point where there was too much sensation to cope with. He was dimly aware of hands clutching at his back and a body arching eagerly under his, but the whole of his awareness became focused on the overwhelming build of pleasure in his groin. Solitary gratification was a dim and distant star to the blazing sun of pleasure that blinded him as his body thrust a final time and trembled with release. Unable support himself on is trembling arms, he collapsed onto a pillow of soft skin and was still.
Ticklish fingers tracing pictures and ruins on his back brought Neville back to himself. Realizing he must be thoroughly squashing Luna beneath him, he gained enough control of his rubbery limbs to shift off of her and pull her into a more comfortable embrace. Laying on his side with Luna tucked up against him, smelling of wildflowers and honey, beneath a canopy of lush tropical plants, he felt very content. There was bound to be some awkwardness and embarrassment soon enough, but right now he couldn’t help but grin like a fool. He had just made love to a beautiful girl who cared about him on the floor of the greenhouse at his ideal job. A little grinning was justified.
Just as he was collecting his thoughts to break the silence, Luna spoke. “I’m leaving for Brazil in three days.”
“What!?” he said, sitting up abruptly.
She turned to look at him, unconcerned about her state of undress and spoke plainly. “I’ve been accepted to a research team doing work in the Amazon. I leave in three days.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? How long have you known?” he asked, feeling like he had been hit with a numbing spell as all the pleasant sensations seeped rapidly from his body.
“One of their team had to drop out suddenly. I’ve known I was a back up choice for a few weeks now. I wasn’t actually hired, so I didn’t tell anyone. I found out I was going yesterday,” she informed him in her typical matter of fact way, as if what she was telling him wasn’t a huge, life altering decision.
“Oh,” was all he could think to say.
She began picking up her clothes and dressing. All Neville could do was watch and listen to her rambling about the trip without actually hearing any of it. When she was fully dressed, she stopped talking and turned to look at him. She might have asked him a question, but he had no notion what it might have been. Instead he posed a question of his own. “How long will you be in Brazil?”
She smiled at the question. “The initial exploration is for two years, but if we are successful then we’ll set up a more permanent research camp.”
“Two years?”
“To start with,” she nodded. “I’ll write to you all about it, though I don’t know how often I’ll have access to international post.”
“Right,” he said blinking and shaking his head before doing his best to give her a sincere smile. “Well, congratulations. This sounds like an incredible experience.”
He stood, and she threw her arms around him in an enthusiastic, friendly hug. As if he wasn’t hugging her back completely starkers. As if they hadn’t just made love on the greenhouse floor. As if what had just happened wasn’t anything special.
After a long, friendly hug, Luna made her excuses and left, promising letters, but only that. Neville felt empty.
The Snidget Bush blossom opened not two hours later and was every bit as spectacular as expected. However, some of the wonder he felt sitting and staring at the lone flower was diminished by the wonder of what had transpired such a short time earlier. He couldn’t tell if the flower was fragrant. All he could smell were wildflowers and honey.
His memory was interrupted by the smell of liver and onions. Rosmerta smiled as she set down the plate in front of a wizard at the table next to his. He smiled back, shaking off the memory and finished the last of his ale. The couple near the window were gone and based on the lengthening shadows cast by the shops along the street, it was getting past time to return to the school. Neville gave Rosmerta a small wave on his way out and walked up the quiet path out of town to Hogwarts.
It was a quiet evening and as he walked, he silently chiding himself for spending too much time daydreaming. Luna sent him regular letters from Brazil, and always made a point of visiting the rare times she returned, but without coming out and saying it, she let him know that she thought they were better as friends. She was probably right. Despite the distance separating them, their friendship was as solid as ever. If they had tried for something more after that day in the greenhouse, it would have been too much to make work. It could have ruined their friendship.
So why did he still want more?
***
The Sumatran Snidget Bush was flowering with all the beauty and joy of a bird in flight. Years of patient care had paid off and Neville was rewarded with a second blossoming. This time, not one, but three buds had formed and he spent nearly all his spare time in the tiny greenhouse tending to the plants around it and always watching for a sign that it was ready to bloom. Last time the buds had shown months before it flowered, but it was an unpredictable plant and he didn’t want to miss a moment of the short lived glory. He hadn’t been into Hogsmeade in weeks and spent only what time was necessary in the castle fulfilling his duties. Though the other greenhouses were well tended, he hadn’t started any new projects and put on hold what experimenting he could. He had known he was being silly, but he couldn’t help himself. Next to his Mimbulus Mimbletonia, the Snidget Bush held a place of pride in his collection.
Now, two of the three buds had burst their silvery protective petals and fluttered lazily in the slight air currents of the greenhouse. The golden petals glittered in the sunlight in a way that a plant should not be capable of. He could tell now that the flowers carried a light, pleasant aroma that was something between jasmine and wild rose. Never more grateful for his improved senses than he was now, Neville closed his eyes and breathed in the delicate fragrance that suited the delicate blossom. The assorted visitors who had been eager to see the rare bloom were gone, and it was peaceful in his greenhouse once more. Warm, quiet and filled with the scents of exotic plants and honey.
Honey? That wasn’t right. Eyes flying open, he turned to see Luna standing inside the door of the greenhouse smiling widely. Her hair was even paler than it had been the last time he had seen her, almost two years ago now, and her skin several shades darker. She resembled a sun kissed goddess more than a garden sprite, but the eyes and the smile and the open arms were the same. On his feet in an instant, he met her halfway, wrapping his arms around her and giving her an excited twirl. She laughed merrily, arms clinging around his neck as they spun.
When he set her down, Neville opened his mouth to say something, but found the words stuck in his throat. She was here and smiling at him and for all the joy he felt right now, he knew in a short while his heart would be aching again. He settled for a cheerful, “I had no idea you were in the country!” and guided her to the blooming plant he presumed she had heard about.
She stood utterly still, gazing at the flowers in wonder for a long time before she spoke. “I’ve come back, Neville. I won’t be going back to Brazil.”
He looked at her, eyebrows raised. “I thought you loved it there. Has your research project ended?”
She shook her head. “No. In fact, it wasn’t even time for my usual leave, but I couldn’t stay there any longer.”
“What happened?”
“I woke up one morning and realized I was looking for the wrong thing in the wrong place. Brazil was interesting, and I had a good time, but it’s not really what I want to be doing. All I really did there was run away.”
“From what? You don’t run away from anything.”
A small, work roughened hand cupped his cheek as she looked at him intensely. “When I left, I was desperately trying not to be ‘normal.’ I was running away from the people I cared about because I was afraid of life becoming ordinary. I know it sounds foolish, and it is. Life is never ordinary when you surround yourself with extraordinary people. It’s taken me far too long to remember that.”
For several minutes, Neville was at a loss for words. He catalogued all the changes Luna had undergone since he last had the opportunity to study her so closely. From a distance she looked the epitome of a bronzed goddess, but up close he could see a slightly more careworn visage. She had been living rough for several years and some of her softness had been replaced by the hardened edges of a doer rather than a dreamer. His own softness had vanished many years past, but it had taken the mundane realities of life, rather than the uncertainty of living in fear, for the same change to take place. However, for all her harder edges, the same kindness he had always found in her gaze was still there. She looked up at him with a warm smile, happiness and caring and something he couldn’t quite define in her wide eyes.
When he found his voice again, Neville the only sensible thing he could think to say was, “What will you do now?”
“Headmistress McGonagall feels that there is a need to do some in depth research into the interaction of species and ecology of the Forbidden Forest. Because of greater cooperation from the centaurs, the school has arranged a joint project to look at management strategies for conservation and safety. Professor Frienze has helped create the team that will be working on the project and accepted me for the human contingent,” Luna told him.
“You’re staying at Hogwarts? That’s wonderful!” he exclaimed, joy swelling in his chest.
She nodded. “I’ve really come back. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here. I’ve missed you so much.”
His arms tightened around her. “I’ve missed you, too.”
She rested her head against his chest, arms squeezing him tightly. Without looking up, she said, “I’m sorry about what I did when I left.”
“It’s alright. Being your friend is more important.”
“No, I’m not sorry it happened. I... I’m sorry I just sprang everything on you and left. I’ve thought about it a lot. I’m not one for regrets, but I do. I regret sharing something so special and walking away.”
With a gentle finger, he tilted her face up so he could see her slightly flushed cheeks and uncharacteristic embarrassment. Normally completely unfazed in uncomfortable situations, the moment of awkwardness he sensed in her made his heart trip a little. She was as unsure as he, but was better at hiding it. Leaning in close, he spoke softly, but surely. “Our friendship is strong enough, but only once. I couldn’t bear it a second time.”
“Neville?” she said with wide, uncertain eyes holding his.
“You’ve really come back?”
She nodded.
Tension crackled between them. Neville paused a long moment, heart thundering in his ears before whispering one word. “Good.”
Without another word, he captured her lips with a fervour that surprised him. For eight years he had tried to put his more than friendly feelings out of his mind, to be content with the good friend she had always been to him, but in this moment he knew it had been futile. Her small hands gripped at his shoulders, pulling him closer into the kiss. Neville felt her love and acceptance enveloping him and it smelled like flowers and honey.
***
Pairing: Neville/Luna
Rating: Mature
Word Count 7600
Summary: It is a rare and truly wonderful thing to be accepted for who you really are, without question. It’s also very lonely to find such acceptance for a time, then have to go without.
A/N: Written for lady_green_bat the hp_summersmut exchange
Acceptance
Neville walked through the muddy streets of Hogsmeade in a bone chilling drizzle on his way to the Three Broomsticks. Spring was slow in coming this year; a fact noticeable even in his carefully climate-charmed greenhouses, and it seemed like the miserable grey, wet weather would never end. It was hard not to feel a bit of self pity in this weather, and he hoped a trip to the pub would help cheer him up some.
Entering the pub, warmth and light surrounded him, and Neville’s lips quirked in a small smile. Rosmerta always kept the place well lit. It was hard not to be cheerful and at ease when you stepped inside. He flipped back the hood of his cloak and sidled past a couple full tables on his way to a booth near the back. Though he certainly would never call it his booth, he didn’t come often enough to be so presumptuous, but partway through his first year as a professor at the school he started sitting near the back, out of the way, but a good place for observing. He wasn’t fond of being in the midst of the crowd, and only tolerated it on the odd weekend he was chaperoning older students in the village and stopped in with some of the other professors. Most often, he came on his own, needing to get away from the castle for a few hours every couple weeks.
Before he had even hung up his cloak and sat down, Rosmerta bustled over and set a large mug of butterbeer on the polished tabletop. She smiled warmly at him, saying, “Here’s your usual there Neville. Miserable weather we’ve been having.”
Neville nodded and gave her a half hearted smile. “Yeah, Thanks.”
Sitting down and sliding across the smooth leather seat to the far end of the booth, he looked at his drink and frowned. The idea of coming to the Three Broomsticks was always better than the reality. While he liked it here far better than in the dingy, uncomfortable environs of the Hogs Head, there were little things that bothered him. It had started after the first visit he made with the professors the week before school started the year he began teaching. Rosmerta had cheerfully taken their orders and served them all, but while she addressed all the others by their title, he was still just Neville. It hadn’t bothered him at the time, but after nearly eight years she still did it. On nights when he came alone it didn’t bother him so much, but it stung when he was there with other professors. He couldn’t quite place why it did, he didn’t exactly stand on formality after all, but no matter how many times he told himself that it didn’t matter, it did.
Wrapping his fingers around the warm mug, Neville frowned again at the sweet, frothy liquid. He liked butterbeer well enough, but he never got the chance to order anything else, either. He had felt a pleasant little thrill the first time she had come and offered him ‘the usual.’ It was flattering in a way, but tonight he had actually wanted a nice dark ale. Most nights he wanted something other than butterbeer, but it seemed rude to send it back, so he drank it anyway, the sweetness of it leaving a heavy aftertaste in his mouth. At thirteen, he had loved it, but his tastes had matured a lot in the intervening fifteen years.
Perhaps that was what bothered him more than anything else when he interacted with people anywhere outside his greenhouses and to a lesser extent the rest of the school grounds. He was not the same person he had been at thirteen, but everyone seemed to expect him to be. He hadn’t undergone a radical change in personality, but his perspective on life had changed dramatically in his seventeenth year while living under the iron fist of the Carrows. When accolades had been given out following the Battle of Hogwarts, he had gracefully accepted the honours bestowed upon him and quietly stepped back from the lime light. He was acknowledged a hero, but he was by nature quite introverted and relieved to let someone else have the attention. Still, just because he didn’t flaunt his wartime experiences, didn’t mean they had affected him less. Nearly ten years had passed, but he still thought of those dark days often, more than anyone, save perhaps Seamus or Luna, realized.
Neville shook himself, realizing he was still staring at the untouched mug of butterbeer and pushed it away. He stood and retrieved his cloak, no longer feeling his earlier desire to sit and people watch tonight. Rosmerta came over as he tossed a couple sickles on the table and noticed the untouched drink.
“Is something wrong with your butterbeer, Neville?”
Drawing himself to his full height, he swung the cloak around his shoulders and clasped it carefully. As he stood there, looking down at the barkeep from his superior height, Neville felt a wave of adrenaline race through him. He nodded, and spoke in an uncharacteristically clipped tone. “Yes, there is. I do not care for butterbeer and haven’t since I was a student. I’ve been a professor at Hogwarts for eight years now. Good evening.”
He turned and left a startled Madam Rosmerta watching his retreating form. His heart was racing, and though it had felt good to speak his mind, he knew that in a few minutes he would regret being so rude. For the moment, however, the rush thrumming through him felt good. Good like when he had insisted on going with Harry and the others to the Department of Mysteries. Good like when he had taunted the Carrows with graffiti. Good like when he had marshalled the DA for the Battle of Hogwarts. Good like when he had kissed Luna at the victory party. Invariably, this sort of rush only felt good for a brief while and would fade into worry or embarrassment, but right now, walking through the sodden streets of Hogsmeade back up to the school, he felt alive and invigorated.
***
All his life, he had been, just Neville, clumsy Neville, forgetful Neville, not quite good enough Neville and good old reliable Neville. Few people bothered to get to know him for himself, his family included. Growing up, his Gran had always expected him to be like his father. His elderly relatives expected him to be a well mannered, tidy and bright little boy. He had been none of these things. Though they rarely said it aloud, he could always sense their disappointment. At Hogwarts, he had quickly got the reputation of being clumsy and stupid not to mention a push over. Nearly everyone had been stunned the first time he stood up to Amycus Carrow.
Neville set down his trowel and removed his gloves, pleased with the potting mixture he had made, despite his distraction. Deciding to take a small break he sat down heavily on the somewhat muddy wooden bench in the greenhouse. His Mimbulus mimbletonia had grown to an unprecedented height and girth, so much that he now kept it in the tallest of the greenhouses rather than the smaller restricted greenhouse he used for his rarer and most treasured plants. He reached out a hand and stroked the waxy surface of his first and most favourite exotic, caught up in thoughts of the past. He had been more introspective since his confrontation with Rosmerta the previous week and looking at the towering grace of his once tiny, lumpy and ugly plant brought back memories of his last few years as a student.
He had always been the odd one out in the boys of his year. Harry had Ron, Seamus had Dean and Neville was off on his own. He didn’t resent the others their close friendships, but it had been lonely to watch the others so chummy. His own best friend didn’t come along until his fifth year, and even now he was surprised at his close friendship with Luna Lovegood. She was just about everything Neville wasn’t, except unpopular, but that, he supposed, had been the start of their bond. She didn’t expect him to be anything, not well groomed, polite and intelligent nor clumsy, forgetful and predictable. She hadn’t even expected him to be nice to her when she started hanging around after that awkward train ride. Though he had initially found her perplexing to talk to, it was comfortable, at the same time, to be with someone who had no pre-existing expectations.
A slight tremor ran through the towering Mimbulus mimbletonia as Neville continued to run his fingers along the smooth, lumpy surface, smiling as his thumb traced over a stinksap blister. Even when his plant was particularly prone to bursting the malodorous sap at inopportune moments, Luna had never thought him odd for treasuring it. She accepted him as he was, at least until partway through his sixth year.
Neville sat alone at a study table away from the main section of the Library. He was close to the Herbology and Magical Creature shelves here, and few students were found in this section looking for material for their homework. He was flipping through a large, illustrated tome on the effects of bonsai cultivation on magical trees when he heard the scrape of a chair on stone floor. Looking up to see Luna settling in across from him, he smiled and nodded a greeting, before returning to his book. Last year, they had rarely interacted beyond the DA, but now, with the common enemy of Umbridge gone, everyone had gone back to their normal routine, and both he and Luna were left on the outside again. Though it wasn’t something they arranged, they often studied here together, occasionally talking, but mostly just comforted knowing someone was there.
After several minutes of shuffling papers and scribbling notes, Luna looked up at him and asked, “What is it like?”
Neville glanced back at her. “What is what like?”
“Having a memory charm on you,” she said her voice full of curiosity.
His brow furrowed. “I don’t have a memory charm on me. I’m as forgetful as ever.”
She shook her head, sending her blonde tresses flying. “Not a charm for memory, but the one blocking your memories. You know, from when you were small.”
Neville, who normally ignored Luna’s peculiar questions and bizarre statements, gave her an utterly bewildered look. “What are you talking about?”
“I was talking with father this summer, I had just had a bad dream about when my mother died, and he told me that it was better to have the awful dreams than to have had them blocked. I asked him what he meant by that, and he told me that after my mother died, a couple Obliviators came to the house to take away my memory of seeing her die. They told him it was standard procedure when children witnessed terrible things like that, but my father yelled at them and wouldn’t let them in. When they wouldn’t leave, he hexed them and chased them right off the property. I was just thinking, you must have seen some pretty awful stuff when you were small and figured they must have been blocked from you mind. It must take a very powerful charm to do it,” she observed, speaking in the most down to earth tone she had ever used.
He stared at her for a full minute before he found words to reply. When he did, all he could say was, “I have a memory charm on me?”
Luna nodded. “After Father told me, I figured you must. He said that people thought it was better for children not to remember these things until they were much older and could cope with them better, but he thought it was dangerous. He always said the mind was a delicate thing, especially in children. Anyway, how would someone who had a charm know to go in and have it removed later if they didn’t know it had been done?”
Neville was stunned. All his life, everyone had either criticized him or made fun of him for having a poor memory, but what if...
“Luna... Why? Why would they have bothered to do something like that to me? I wasn’t much more than a year old when it happened. Honestly, what would I have remembered?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea, but what do you think Harry remembers?”
“But he would have also... no. Perhaps not. Dumbledore always has his hand in Harry’s business. I doubt it’s the sort of thing Dumbledore would go along with,” he observed thoughtfully, wondering at the same time why he had not been given the same consideration. It made so much sense. His whole life he had been excessively forgetful, just like someone might be after a very strong or poorly done memory charm.
In the six weeks leading up to Christmas, he and Luna almost completely abandoned their regular homework in favour of searching for ways to reverse an old memory charm. He even went so far as to ask Madam Pomfrey if his medical records had any information about it, but she had denied him, saying if there was such a thing in is records, she was not at liberty to discuss it with him until he was of age. The day before the train left for the holidays, Luna had found a diagnostic spell that would reveal if he had altered memories, though there had been no further information on how to restore them. He went home for Christmas determined to confront his Gran about the blue fog the spell had revealed.
Neville shook himself slightly, breathing in the humid, earthy air of the greenhouse, reminding himself of the here and now. That Christmas had not been a particularly pleasant one, but he was proud of himself for confronting his Gran on the issue. It had taken him until the day before he returned to gather the fortitude to do so, but in the end she had told him Luna’s observations had been correct. She even consented to the removal of the charm when he returned to Hogwarts, though Neville had been too hurt and angry to say anything. He had only given her a terse goodbye at the train station and boarded without another word.
The memories Madam Pomfrey had exposed made a bigger difference than he could ever have imagined, painful though they were. Though Pomfrey noted that his memory had likely been permanently damaged to some extent, everything from his everyday memory to his sensory perception improved. It had made a difference in all his subject areas, but none more so than Herbology. He went from having a mere knack for plants, to having exceptional talent. He never would have thought something as simple as improved smell and touch would have made such a difference, but it was like the fuzziness of the world around him suddenly became sharp. Looking around his beloved greenhouse, he was reminded every day that it was Luna’s innocent question that had thoroughly changed his life.
Abandoning his contemplation, Neville picked up his abandoned trowel and returned to the transplanting that needed to be done before he had the fourth years in here the next day.
***
Three weeks after his sharp words with Madam Rosmerta, Neville found himself standing outside the doors of the Three Broomsticks, nervous about going inside. Headmistress McGonagall had given him a special package to bring to the proprietor that she did not wish to send by owl. He mentally kicked himself for always being too polite to refuse these sorts of requests.
Summoning his resolve, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. Neville wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the patrons didn’t cease their conversations and Rosmerta didn’t drop the bottle of firewhiskey she was pouring at the shock of seeing him. Not intending to stay, he walked up to the bar and waited patiently for her to return from serving drinks to a large group of witches who appeared to be celebrating a birthday.
As she stepped back behind the bar, Rosmerta gave him a friendly smile. “What brings you here this time of day, Professor?”
Instantly, the chunk of ice that had been in his stomach since the Headmistress had asked him to come turned into a lead weight. She was naturally such a kind woman, and he felt even worse for his earlier words. Taking out the package, he set it carefully on the bar. “The Headmistress asked me to bring this down to you. She said it was too delicate to trust to an owl.”
The woman’s eyes lit up. “Oh! It’s finished then. Wonderful. Please give her my thanks.”
“Will do,” he nodded.
Without opening the package, she carefully took it and placed it in a cupboard behind the bar. Before Neville could leave, she asked, “Can I get you anything to drink, Professor? Or do you need to get back to the school right away?”
He flushed and focused his gaze at a knot in the polished wood of the bar. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so rude to you.”
She tutted and shook her head. “No, you simply called me on something you had every right to do years ago. The apology should be mine. I would offer an excuse if I had one good enough, but the truth is it hadn’t crossed my mind. For that, I apologise. Now, can I get you anything? This one is on the house.”
Though his face was still glowing, he ordered a pint of dark ale and wound his way through the tables to his usual seat. It was a Saturday afternoon, but thankfully not a student weekend and he didn’t have rounds for several hours yet. Rosmerta brought his drink a few minutes later and returned her attention to the group, who were now well into their meals and half in their cups. The pub was busy, and there were lots of people to watch.
Though the party of witches was the rowdiest and most attention drawing group there, a smaller table with half a dozen old wizards were making frequent toasts and laughing noisily at bawdy jokes and elaborate stories. The rest of the patrons were small groups of two or three that had dropped in for a rest from their shopping. Most had several bags and packages at their feet and were chatting amiably with their companions. The one table that stood out to Neville was a couple at a small table near the front window.
The woman was quite petite and had long blonde hair, tied back in an elaborate plait and the man with her was tall and broad with sleek black hair that glinted in the sunlight. They appeared to be having an important discussion, focussing intently on each other and making broad gestures as if to punctuate a point. He wondered what they were discussing so intently. It didn’t seem to be an argument, for all it was intense, but it was more than just an animated conversation. They were an odd looking couple, for all they were attractive in their own way. She seemed almost dwarfed by his imposing size and muscles, and he looked too rough and cumbersome for her delicate beauty. Still, you could tell from the way they looked at each other they were in love, and Neville couldn’t help the small feeling of longing that pulled at his insides. He liked his job as a professor and enjoyed living at Hogwarts, but it really wasn’t conducive to finding a date... not that he had been trying that hard since his brief romance with his best friend.
The woman in by the window only bore a passing resemblance to Luna; she was too dainty and delicate looking. However, looking at the long, shimmering strands of her hair, he couldn’t help but remember what it had been like to run his fingers through silky golden strands, breathing in the scent of honey and wildflowers.
Most of his friends were just starting to move on with their lives when he first accepted Professor Sprout’s offer of an apprenticeship. Still, when the old DA got together for their annual Celebration of Survival that Seamus had started the previous year, everyone was pleased. By the time he had finished and was accepted on to teach at Hogwarts, everyone was too busy to arrange a time to get together. It didn’t bother him too much. Seamus had met him for a pint at the Leaky Cauldron and Luna said she would come up to the school to have a look at some of his latest projects. He had stood against the world with the two, and it seemed fitting that they were the ones to cheer him on, yet again.
He would have liked Seamus to come visit Hogwarts as well, but he understood his friend’s avoidance of the invitation. Seamus had been there throughout that awful year of the Carrows, encouraging him, sharing the burden of expectations and patching him up when necessary. They had each tried their best to put that time behind them, but there were moments, like when walking the hallways at night, when Neville couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder, half expecting a hex to hit him from behind. Most of the time, he could ignore it and time spent at the school had made it fade, but Seamus adamantly refused to return. He let it go, understanding not to push, but he had wanted everyone to see his work, and now it was only Luna who would come.
Not that she was ‘only Luna,’ to him. She had done more to help him become that person who stood up to the Carrows than she realized. Without her, he would have kept muddling through with his muddled mind, unaware of the possibilities. She had opened up more than just magical possibilities to him, too.
Luna had been effusive with her praise when she toured through the greenhouses, smiling widely at the variety of plants, aesthetically pleasing and bizarre alike. They had ended up in a smaller greenhouse that was not used for classes. Most of his grafting and cross-pollination experiments had started here to allow his work to be uninterrupted by students. He had come to enjoy the teaching part of his apprenticeship, but in the early days, this had been a sanctuary from the chaos of Hogwarts. The air was warm, rich and humid, filled with the scents of growing things, as well as being quiet and still. The leaves occasionally rustled from the air circulation spell that refreshed the air every half hour, but soon the leaves would still. He found his own smile broadening as he surveyed the greenhouse. He was proud of his work.
Standing near a delicate, feathery leafed bush, Luna looked like a garden sprite come to life. It had taken a few months to stop feeling awkward around her after the impulsive, joyful kiss he had given her at the victory party following the Battle of Hogwarts, but every once in a while a flush of embarrassment and nervousness would fill him when he noticed just how beautiful his closest friend had become. The shivering thrill of attraction nearly distracted him from noticing just which plant Luna was standing beside. With a start, he slipped behind her, gently trapping the hand, that had been about to touch the translucent silver bud, in his own.
She half glanced over her shoulder, asking, “What is it? I’ve never seen something like this before.”
Not releasing her fingers, he answered softly, “It’s a Sumatran Snidget Bush.”
“Oh, because of the feathery leaves. How wonderful.”
“It’s also quite sensitive to touch. It’s been at the school for years, but even Pamona has never seen it bloom. She said it has been over thirty years since it last blossomed. The bud first appeared near Christmas, and we’ve kept it in here in hopes of it actually blooming undisturbed,” he explained, leaning his chin to rest on her shoulder and focusing his gaze on the plant.
She tilted her head slightly and leaned back against him. Neville’s heart tripped, much like he expected his own feet would if he were to try to use them just now, and he tentatively brought an arm around Luna’s waist. She gave a happy sounding sort of sigh and didn’t pull away. “What will the blossom look like?”
“It’s supposed to be a lot like the leaves, sort of feathery, but a yellowy-gold in colour. It doesn’t bloom for more than twelve hours, either, so I’ve been keeping a close eye on it. I don’t want to miss it.”
She turned in his arms, no longer looking at the plant. “I’m sure you won’t miss something that special. It’s quite amazing.”
No longer certain she was still referring to the plant, Neville tried to hide his uncertainty in what he hoped would be interpreted as a friendly hug. However, a good deal more of his thoughts than was entirely proper were on how much curvier she felt than the last time he had held her so closely. When he was sure the parameters of friendly hug were well and truly at their limits, he loosened his arms to allow her to pull back. She didn’t. Instead, in her innocently knowing way, she said straightforwardly, “I’m quite ready for you to kiss me again.”
Too stunned to do anything but what she suggested, he tightened his hold and slanted his lips onto hers. Her delicate fingers threaded themselves through his hair and tugged forcefully, holding him closer. Courage and impulsiveness took over, and soon the hands that had been content simply holding her close were exploring the curves he had noticed earlier. Slipping under the edge of her blouse, his calloused fingers trailed across warm, smooth skin, far softer than he had ever imagined. A shiver ran through her as he palmed a cotton covered breast and her lips broke free of his, searing a path along his jaw and nipping at the flesh behind his ear.
Gasping at the sensation and feeling any blood that had not previously been diverted heading south, he paused in his exploration and suddenly found himself bare from the waist up, as was Luna. He briefly noted the wand being replaced to its spot behind her ear, but Neville was far more concerned with the pale, perfect expanse of skin so suddenly exposed to him. His hands still on her breasts, he brushed a roughened thumb across a soft nipple and pulled back slightly from the onslaught of kisses at his neck to watch the dusky rose skin harden to a firm peak. She gave a small squeak, followed by a hum of pleasure as he imitated the movement with his other hand.
He toyed with her breasts in fascination for some time before he noticed the delightful attack of lips on his neck had ended. Glancing up at her face, she was looking at him heatedly and made a small gesture towards a more secluded part of the greenhouse. He opened his mouth to ask her something -he wasn’t sure what precisely- but a delicate finger on his lips stopped him. Without a word, Neville guided her to a densely filled row of benevolent plants that was impossible to see from the doors.
He fumbled with his wand momentarily, and then transfigured a soft quilt with a cushioning charm that would have made his professors proud. Adjusting the corner closest to him, he glanced at Luna feeling embarrassed and unsure. Unfazed, she dropped to her knees on the quilt and toed off her shoes in a nonchalant manner that belied her topless state. At a loss, Neville followed suit and removed his own shoes before sitting down awkwardly beside her. Ignoring his discomfort, she straddled his legs, placing her breasts conveniently at face level and moving her skirt so that her the heat from her cotton covered mound pressed against the straining bulge of the erection beneath his trousers.
No longer searching for words, Neville moved purely on instinct. Capturing the stiff peak of a nipple with his lips, he laved it with his tongue, savouring the sensation, as Luna gave a whimper of enjoyment. Her hips reflexively ground against his, making him groan in turn. The sensuous play of cause and effect was a delicious torment rapidly became clutching fingers and desperate bucking hips. Despite the layers between them, the rocking of her hips became too much and before he could pull back to stop himself, Neville exploded his sticky release inside his pants.
Before he had the chance to become supremely embarrassed, determined hands were tugging at the button of his trousers and Luna pulled them and his pants off surprisingly efficiently. Free of clothing, she explored his body with hungry eyes and curious fingers. The light touch tickled as she traced small shapes down his chest and toyed with the wiry hairs that became thicker as she reached the base of his spent cock. Her fingers trailed through the sticky mess in the curly hair, capturing some on her finger. He watched, entranced, as she brought that finger to her mouth and felt his cock stirring again. She looked curiously at the liquid on her finger for a long moment before sticking the entire digit in her mouth and licked it from knuckle to tip. She gave a small frown at the taste, but returned her finger to his rapidly hardening cock, still looking curious and intrigued.
The feather light touch from base to tip was too much for Neville to bear, and in a far more graceful motion that he thought himself capable of, he flipped them over so that Luna lay on her back beneath him. A brief moment of fumbling with the fastening of her skirt and some awkward shifting and she was completely naked beneath him. Wide eyes that had always looked at him with acceptance and kindness were now focussed on him with trust and desire. Swallowing hard, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss before pulling away and exploring her body.
Until now, Neville had never really appreciated just how soft a woman’s skin was. Luna squirmed with delight as the roughened pads of his fingers traced down the silky expanse of pale skin from neck to navel. He paused there, still a bit apprehensive, before continuing lower, sliding his fingers through the blonde curls at the apex of her thighs. It was startlingly hot and moist as he drew a finger along her cleft, drawing small mews from her throat. Neither had said a word since they first kissed, and without the clumsiness of words he felt more confident, but the small sounds she made in her throat were what set his blood racing.
Spreading the flushed lips apart with one hand, he dipped a finger into the moist heat of her core. Patiently exploring each fold, she squirmed and bucked against him. A gentle brush against the hooded peak made her cry out loudly and he circled his thumb over it several more times, his painfully hard cock throbbing with each whimper and moan. Absorbed in his exploration, he was startled when her small hands grasped his, pulling them away from her center. He met her eyes, a thrill racing through him at the look of eager desperation on her face, and dipped his index finger into her once more. Lifting his hand, he stared for a moment at the way his finger glistened with moisture before sticking the finger into his mouth and sucking. It was a musky sort of flavour, different from anything he had ever tasted, but not unpleasant. Further contemplation, however, was cut off as small fingers pulled at him urgently, guiding him to lay nestled between her thighs.
He had rarely given Luna’s size much thought, but hovering over her, Neville noticed just how slight she was. A momentary thought that he might crush her entered his mind, but was chased out just as quickly when a heel pressed against his buttocks and her hips flexed beneath his. Like so many other times in his life where he felt he should know what he was doing but couldn’t seem to manage, Neville fumbled clumsily. He tried to position himself a few times, thrusting forward, but missing the mark. Even though he knew Luna so well, he half expected her to laugh at his awkward attempts.
Squeezing his eyes shut, arms trembling slightly as he braced himself, he felt a gentle kiss at the corner of his mouth. A hand caressed down his bare back, then slipped between them, guiding him into place. A canting of hips and nudge from a foot, and he pushed deeply into the welcoming heat. Though he wanted to savour the sensation and take his time, the first thrust began a primal rhythm that he was at a loss to control. Tingles of magic raced along his skin, heightening all of his senses to the point where there was too much sensation to cope with. He was dimly aware of hands clutching at his back and a body arching eagerly under his, but the whole of his awareness became focused on the overwhelming build of pleasure in his groin. Solitary gratification was a dim and distant star to the blazing sun of pleasure that blinded him as his body thrust a final time and trembled with release. Unable support himself on is trembling arms, he collapsed onto a pillow of soft skin and was still.
Ticklish fingers tracing pictures and ruins on his back brought Neville back to himself. Realizing he must be thoroughly squashing Luna beneath him, he gained enough control of his rubbery limbs to shift off of her and pull her into a more comfortable embrace. Laying on his side with Luna tucked up against him, smelling of wildflowers and honey, beneath a canopy of lush tropical plants, he felt very content. There was bound to be some awkwardness and embarrassment soon enough, but right now he couldn’t help but grin like a fool. He had just made love to a beautiful girl who cared about him on the floor of the greenhouse at his ideal job. A little grinning was justified.
Just as he was collecting his thoughts to break the silence, Luna spoke. “I’m leaving for Brazil in three days.”
“What!?” he said, sitting up abruptly.
She turned to look at him, unconcerned about her state of undress and spoke plainly. “I’ve been accepted to a research team doing work in the Amazon. I leave in three days.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? How long have you known?” he asked, feeling like he had been hit with a numbing spell as all the pleasant sensations seeped rapidly from his body.
“One of their team had to drop out suddenly. I’ve known I was a back up choice for a few weeks now. I wasn’t actually hired, so I didn’t tell anyone. I found out I was going yesterday,” she informed him in her typical matter of fact way, as if what she was telling him wasn’t a huge, life altering decision.
“Oh,” was all he could think to say.
She began picking up her clothes and dressing. All Neville could do was watch and listen to her rambling about the trip without actually hearing any of it. When she was fully dressed, she stopped talking and turned to look at him. She might have asked him a question, but he had no notion what it might have been. Instead he posed a question of his own. “How long will you be in Brazil?”
She smiled at the question. “The initial exploration is for two years, but if we are successful then we’ll set up a more permanent research camp.”
“Two years?”
“To start with,” she nodded. “I’ll write to you all about it, though I don’t know how often I’ll have access to international post.”
“Right,” he said blinking and shaking his head before doing his best to give her a sincere smile. “Well, congratulations. This sounds like an incredible experience.”
He stood, and she threw her arms around him in an enthusiastic, friendly hug. As if he wasn’t hugging her back completely starkers. As if they hadn’t just made love on the greenhouse floor. As if what had just happened wasn’t anything special.
After a long, friendly hug, Luna made her excuses and left, promising letters, but only that. Neville felt empty.
The Snidget Bush blossom opened not two hours later and was every bit as spectacular as expected. However, some of the wonder he felt sitting and staring at the lone flower was diminished by the wonder of what had transpired such a short time earlier. He couldn’t tell if the flower was fragrant. All he could smell were wildflowers and honey.
His memory was interrupted by the smell of liver and onions. Rosmerta smiled as she set down the plate in front of a wizard at the table next to his. He smiled back, shaking off the memory and finished the last of his ale. The couple near the window were gone and based on the lengthening shadows cast by the shops along the street, it was getting past time to return to the school. Neville gave Rosmerta a small wave on his way out and walked up the quiet path out of town to Hogwarts.
It was a quiet evening and as he walked, he silently chiding himself for spending too much time daydreaming. Luna sent him regular letters from Brazil, and always made a point of visiting the rare times she returned, but without coming out and saying it, she let him know that she thought they were better as friends. She was probably right. Despite the distance separating them, their friendship was as solid as ever. If they had tried for something more after that day in the greenhouse, it would have been too much to make work. It could have ruined their friendship.
So why did he still want more?
***
The Sumatran Snidget Bush was flowering with all the beauty and joy of a bird in flight. Years of patient care had paid off and Neville was rewarded with a second blossoming. This time, not one, but three buds had formed and he spent nearly all his spare time in the tiny greenhouse tending to the plants around it and always watching for a sign that it was ready to bloom. Last time the buds had shown months before it flowered, but it was an unpredictable plant and he didn’t want to miss a moment of the short lived glory. He hadn’t been into Hogsmeade in weeks and spent only what time was necessary in the castle fulfilling his duties. Though the other greenhouses were well tended, he hadn’t started any new projects and put on hold what experimenting he could. He had known he was being silly, but he couldn’t help himself. Next to his Mimbulus Mimbletonia, the Snidget Bush held a place of pride in his collection.
Now, two of the three buds had burst their silvery protective petals and fluttered lazily in the slight air currents of the greenhouse. The golden petals glittered in the sunlight in a way that a plant should not be capable of. He could tell now that the flowers carried a light, pleasant aroma that was something between jasmine and wild rose. Never more grateful for his improved senses than he was now, Neville closed his eyes and breathed in the delicate fragrance that suited the delicate blossom. The assorted visitors who had been eager to see the rare bloom were gone, and it was peaceful in his greenhouse once more. Warm, quiet and filled with the scents of exotic plants and honey.
Honey? That wasn’t right. Eyes flying open, he turned to see Luna standing inside the door of the greenhouse smiling widely. Her hair was even paler than it had been the last time he had seen her, almost two years ago now, and her skin several shades darker. She resembled a sun kissed goddess more than a garden sprite, but the eyes and the smile and the open arms were the same. On his feet in an instant, he met her halfway, wrapping his arms around her and giving her an excited twirl. She laughed merrily, arms clinging around his neck as they spun.
When he set her down, Neville opened his mouth to say something, but found the words stuck in his throat. She was here and smiling at him and for all the joy he felt right now, he knew in a short while his heart would be aching again. He settled for a cheerful, “I had no idea you were in the country!” and guided her to the blooming plant he presumed she had heard about.
She stood utterly still, gazing at the flowers in wonder for a long time before she spoke. “I’ve come back, Neville. I won’t be going back to Brazil.”
He looked at her, eyebrows raised. “I thought you loved it there. Has your research project ended?”
She shook her head. “No. In fact, it wasn’t even time for my usual leave, but I couldn’t stay there any longer.”
“What happened?”
“I woke up one morning and realized I was looking for the wrong thing in the wrong place. Brazil was interesting, and I had a good time, but it’s not really what I want to be doing. All I really did there was run away.”
“From what? You don’t run away from anything.”
A small, work roughened hand cupped his cheek as she looked at him intensely. “When I left, I was desperately trying not to be ‘normal.’ I was running away from the people I cared about because I was afraid of life becoming ordinary. I know it sounds foolish, and it is. Life is never ordinary when you surround yourself with extraordinary people. It’s taken me far too long to remember that.”
For several minutes, Neville was at a loss for words. He catalogued all the changes Luna had undergone since he last had the opportunity to study her so closely. From a distance she looked the epitome of a bronzed goddess, but up close he could see a slightly more careworn visage. She had been living rough for several years and some of her softness had been replaced by the hardened edges of a doer rather than a dreamer. His own softness had vanished many years past, but it had taken the mundane realities of life, rather than the uncertainty of living in fear, for the same change to take place. However, for all her harder edges, the same kindness he had always found in her gaze was still there. She looked up at him with a warm smile, happiness and caring and something he couldn’t quite define in her wide eyes.
When he found his voice again, Neville the only sensible thing he could think to say was, “What will you do now?”
“Headmistress McGonagall feels that there is a need to do some in depth research into the interaction of species and ecology of the Forbidden Forest. Because of greater cooperation from the centaurs, the school has arranged a joint project to look at management strategies for conservation and safety. Professor Frienze has helped create the team that will be working on the project and accepted me for the human contingent,” Luna told him.
“You’re staying at Hogwarts? That’s wonderful!” he exclaimed, joy swelling in his chest.
She nodded. “I’ve really come back. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here. I’ve missed you so much.”
His arms tightened around her. “I’ve missed you, too.”
She rested her head against his chest, arms squeezing him tightly. Without looking up, she said, “I’m sorry about what I did when I left.”
“It’s alright. Being your friend is more important.”
“No, I’m not sorry it happened. I... I’m sorry I just sprang everything on you and left. I’ve thought about it a lot. I’m not one for regrets, but I do. I regret sharing something so special and walking away.”
With a gentle finger, he tilted her face up so he could see her slightly flushed cheeks and uncharacteristic embarrassment. Normally completely unfazed in uncomfortable situations, the moment of awkwardness he sensed in her made his heart trip a little. She was as unsure as he, but was better at hiding it. Leaning in close, he spoke softly, but surely. “Our friendship is strong enough, but only once. I couldn’t bear it a second time.”
“Neville?” she said with wide, uncertain eyes holding his.
“You’ve really come back?”
She nodded.
Tension crackled between them. Neville paused a long moment, heart thundering in his ears before whispering one word. “Good.”
Without another word, he captured her lips with a fervour that surprised him. For eight years he had tried to put his more than friendly feelings out of his mind, to be content with the good friend she had always been to him, but in this moment he knew it had been futile. Her small hands gripped at his shoulders, pulling him closer into the kiss. Neville felt her love and acceptance enveloping him and it smelled like flowers and honey.
***