A/N: I own nothing, as always.

This chapter was interesting to write, as it's all memories of Neville's. Hope you like it! :)

It was the beginning of Fifth year, on the Hogwarts express. He, Harry and Ginny sat in a compartment with a strange girl reading her magazine upside down. He remembered willing the girl to look away from him as she stared at him with an icy blue gaze. An uncomfortable silence fell over them, and the girl was the center of it all. Some even called her Loony, not a good sign. He was sure she was insane.

A few months later, he was talking with her after a DA meeting. Even in a small band of rebels they were outcasts. They attracted each other like magnets. At first he had found her oddness rather frightening, but that had been wearing off for a long time now. It was almost endearing, rather than disturbing. She did not bend her beliefs to please others, and spoke her opinion. It was rather inspiring to him.

When departing from the Room of Requirement, she bade him good night and told him, rather nonchalantly, that he was a good friend. Strange as she was, he felt inexplicably happy at being dubbed her friend.

Now it was right before the Christmas holidays fifth year. Going back home would be a relief after chafing under Umbrige's domain for so long, but it also meant temporary goodbyes and a hiatus on D.A meetings. Luna wished him a happy Christmas and said she would miss him, and he returned the phrase, surprised by just how much he'd meant it.

He remembered being with her after the Ministry fiasco. Though she had been knocked out and blasted across a room, she was as good natured as ever.

Being through something like that, he had found enduring strength and lifelong bonds formed with the five others. Maybe they were just teenagers, but they could still fight to save the world.

Sixth year. Missing the D.A. meetings, he and Luna found solace in each other. They wouldwalk around the grounds, or sit by the lake and talk the hours away. Sometimes Ginny would join them, but she mad much more of a social life than either of them.

One day as they sat by the lake, Neville told Luna about his parents' fate. It was the first time he had informed a friend out of his own will. She hadn't stood there, staring blankly and at loss for words, as Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had. Luna simply nodded, her protrubent eyes full of understanding. Then she said something he would never forget.

"They're still with you."

"What" he asked.

"Your parents. They're still with you, I know they are. Like my mum is with me."

"Luna, your mum's-"
"I know my mother's dead, Neville. I was there." Her voice wasn't accusing or bitter, but more matter-of fact. "But she's still with me, in spirit. And I know- just as I know that shooting stars are just flying heliopaths gliding through the heavens- that your parents are still with you, in a way, and they're proud of you." She stared serenely out into the distance over the lake. There was a long pause before she added "After all, since death can't stop the ones we love from being with us, then why should life?"

Neville hadn't believed her, for the most part. A small part of his brain hoped and willed for it to be true. Nevertheless, her words were still so comforting, whether he believed them or not. He had felt his throat constrict as he thought about what she had said. Then he smiled slightly, looking out over the lake as well, lost in thought, affection, and a comfortable silence which had fallen over the pair of them.

He had still been injured the day of Dumbledore's funeral, after battling the death eaters that had laid siege to the school. Neville remembered Luna helping and sitting with him; her touch gentle, her presence soothing.

Suddenly, his mind sped ahead to a heart-stopping memory. It was right before the holidays, seventh year. He, Ginny and Luna were riding in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, all looking worse for the wear. They were flushed with their success in the reformed D.A. that term. Scrapes and bruises were apparent on their skin, but they felt like trophies rather than burdens; reminders of their resistance. Earlier they had discussed plans for the D.A for the next term, and spells to read up on, but now everything was silent. Luna was reading an article in The Quibbler about what Harry, Ron, and Hermione could be doing on their mysterious mission. Suddenly, the train had stopped, causing luggage to lurch precariously in their racks. Everyone looked around, confused and in disbelief. Some looked out windows. Surely they hadn't reached King's Cross yet?

They hadn't. Masked figures they immediately recognized as Death Eater's were striding through the corridors, slamming open compartment doors and barking orders at students. Before they had time to act or think at all, the Death Eaters had raided their compartment. Neville and Ginny used all of their willpower not to act and challenge the Death Eaters. Luna had flashed them a warning look, clearly telling them not to make a move. They were outnumbered, and Neville and Ginny would only get themselves harmed if they did anything. One of the brutish Death Eaters struck Luna hard across the face, and Neville felt rage course through him, but maintained control, albeit grudgingly. They snapped Luna's wand, and was incarcerated before being dragged forcefully by her hair out of the compartment. Her face looked resigned, and almost slightly bored, as though she had been expecting a more dramatic kidnapping. Neville and Ginny gasped in air more and more urgently after each breath, as they couldn't seem to get enough into their lungs. It was as if Devil's Snare was squeezing the life out of him; everything was blurry from tears.

The rest of the journey to Platform Nine and Three Quarters had been very silent as they stared at the upturned Quibbler on the seat.

This memory faded into a crevice in his mind again, waiting to haunt him once more.

He remembered Luna climbing into the Room of Requirement with grace, smiling around at everyone, her eyes lingering on his.

She was back. She was safe. They might be walking into hell, but at least Luna was by his side. He didn't know why this comforted him so much.

Now he was running and leaping over blurred rubble and bodies on the ground. Hogwarts, his home, was now a war-zone. Spells were flying, and yells and screams echoed through the hallways. He saw a chunk of wall with some D.A graffiti on the ground. In purple letters (now fading, and a few letters missing), it read "Dumbledore's Army: A pain in the arse to gits like you since 1995." That's funny, he had thought. We wrote that outside Amycus Carrow's office. That's halfway across the castle from here. A hex suddenly zoomed inches from his face, and snapped him to his senses. He noticed some D.A members fighting nearby. He had seen snatches of all of them at some point as he had run around with deadly magical plants (and Gran once said Herbology was a useless subject, he thought) and he felt responsible for it all. Every hex, every curse aimed at one of the D.A. members was an axe stroke to his side, his burden to carry. He finally knew how Harry must have felt, why Harry hadn't wanted them to go to the Ministry of Magic fifth year. Gran had always told him to be more like Harry Potter; now he wasn't envious in the least bit. And as he began to duel yet another nameless Death Eater, three things comforted him. One: the image of his parents, normal, laughing, and smiling, burned into the back of his mind. The image was from a photograph taken before he was born. He had kept it in his trunk since first year. Two: Gran's letter she had sent when on the run was in his pocket, the words playing through his mind. Three: the thought, somewhere in this castle, Luna was no longer a prisoner, and she was fighting too.