Neville sat down, drained but happy. Well, happy might not be the exact word. There were so many losses. You can't replace those you love inside your heart, your friends, even people you knew without really knowing them all that much. It always hurts, stings, it makes for a big hole inside the heart. A hole that cannot be filled, only forgotten from time to time. Still, the weight on his chest was not so heavy, the burden was easier to carry. It was over. The great battle, the dark times. And, to his amazement, his own cowardice.

Dumbledore had told him a long time ago, but he had refused to believe it. How could he, Neville Longbottom, ever become a soldier in a battle against the most dangerous wizard of all time? He, who couldn't even remember where he had put his socks the night before? Even when she tried to conceal it, Neville could see the disappointment in his grandmother's eyes; she didn't mean it, but looking at his parents and trying to see something from them in Neville was hard, if not impossible. It was not his grandmother's fault. It was his own fault. There wasn't a time when he didn't remember being afraid of something. Even small, unimportant things. The shadow of his parent's bravery made it all harder. So he had accepted it. He was a coward and there was nothing he could do about it.

Until that day.

He wasn't sure where the courage came from. But he wanted justice, and he wanted to protect his friends. And, most of all, he wanted to honour his parents and dying didn't scare him all that much. Actually, in all honesty, it did. Of course it did. Dying was scary. But overcoming his fears, that was the promise he had made to himself. What is the use of a life if you don't fight against what makes you shiver? So he stepped forward and he said the speech. For his parents, for his friends, for his grandmother and every single innocent person who had died in that battle and the ones who had lost their friends. And he grabbed the sword, killed Nagini, and opened the path for victory. He didn't think at the time, he simply executed. The sword surrendered to him, and he finally understood that he was, indeed, a Gryffindor. It was a sparkle, the beginning of the end for Voldemort.

He smiled, clutching the sword once more. Maybe his life didn't have to be such a waste. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he could do something important with it. Make it matter.

He sighed, the vestige of the adrenaline leaving his body. He was shaking now, and before his legs started to falter, he sat. By his side, hands between her knees, seemingly unabashed by all the commotion, looking around as if she was watching a mildly interesting movie, sat Luna Lovegood. Neville gazed at her. With the light of the sun, her blond hair shone, and the slight curls balanced on a messy ponytail. Her skin was dirty, with earth and dust, but behind the curtain of dirt he could see the paleness. Her eyes were beautiful, green and clear and her expression peaceful, as if the world was a good place to be. He had never seen Luna before, not really. He wondered if he had been blind, because the way Luna held herself next to him warmed up his heart, in a way he haven't felt ever before.

She noticed his gaze and turned to him. With a lump on his throat, he could not speak, so he just smiled, hoping he could transmit to her in that glance what he was feeling, but fearful as well. Funny, how he had killed the snake, but was afraid of this feeling now. Luna smiled back and he hoped he wasn't wrong, but he saw something in that smile and in the way she stared away, embarrassed. It took her a while to say something, but she finally did, her eyes on his again.

"Good job with the sword. My mother used to say that a good soldier always finds a good sword, as long as he has a good heart."

Accustomed to her ramblings, Neville wasn't sure that was true or not. But he chose to believe her this time.

"Are you worried?" she asked. "It's okay. I am sure they will rebuild the school in time for us to come back next year and finish our graduation and get back the year we lost."

He had never heard Luna talk about grades, or worrying about them. She was clever, an easy-learner. He swallowed, to send away the lump on his throat. He called on bravery again. And he spoke.

"I lost my father's watch." He said, showing her his bare wrist. "My grandmother's going to kill me."

Luna took his wrist in her hand and smiled. He felt electricity when she touched him, but she made the gesture look so familiar and simple.

"Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect."

She then got up and took his hand, interlacing her fingers on his. They fit there just right. And, as they walked together amongst the ruins, the calm returned, and the warmth in his heart intensified.

A few years later, Neville sat by the fireplace, a letter written by one of his students in his hand, an appreciation for being such a good Professor. Luna came from the bedroom they now shared and sat next to him, holding his hand, just like many years ago. The only difference was the golden ring that looked so exquisite on her left hand now, the one he himself had placed there, after saying the vows, meaning them more than anything he had said before in his life. She handed him a present. Neville put the letter down and smiled at the unexpected gift. Inside the black velvet box was a watch. His father's watch.

"I saw it on a second-hand store and something told me I had to buy it. It was probably the Flamboyant Rhapsodies; they always have a way to guide us in the direction of the perfect gift, even if we can't see them."

Luna could not know the watch belonged to his father, which meant that the Flamboyant Rhapsodies must have been true. It didn't matter. She helped him put the watch around the wrist and smiled, the same adoring smile that received him when he got home. He patted her prominent belly tenderly and kissed her in the forehead.

He thought about Luna's words concerning the things we lose, right after the battle, the words she always used when he couldn't find something and was mad at himself for it. And he knew she must be right. He also knew something more: sometimes, the things we didn't even know we needed, come to us in an unexpected way, and they make us wonder how we ever lived without them in the first place.