She'd never notice him. Not in a million years.

Neville Longbottom sighed. He was in Charms class, and he was lazily flicking his wand in the direction of the teacup that he was supposed to charm. But he was too distracted to really concentrate. Distracted…that was the perfect word for him right now. He was definitely, utterly, distracted by her. His mind spiraled into yet another crazy daydream about her…her pale, yet still golden hair, that bounced happily whenever she skipped down the hallway; her amazing, always wide, always pensive bluish-silver eyes, the ones that he wanted desperately to stare at forever; the subtle, beautiful curve of her forever pale-pink lips…the very lips he wanted to touch with his own.

Who cared about her little oddities? Her Nargles, her Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, her Dirigible Plum earrings, those were the things that made her all the more endearing to him. The enchanted lion hat she wore to cheer Gryffindor on for the Quidditch match that one time was amazing; she had perfectly charmed it. And Harry, the infamous, supposedly brilliant Harry Potter, had taken her to Professor Slughorn's party. He had been insanely jealous, he recalled, as he waved his wand and muttered, "Animatus Objectus." The teacup stayed put. He sighed. She was, indeed, extremely distracting. She was so strange. She was so…beautiful.

He walked out of Charms that day with teacup-charming homework and his mind full to the brim of thoughts of her. He was in a daze, oblivious to the world around him, as usual. He didn't flinch when Malfoy teased him for the billionth time. He didn't react to Hermione's snapping fingers in front of his face, to her frustrated groan of "Harry, you try." He ignored Harry's serious, emerald eyes, and Harry's voice saying, "Neville, are you alright?" He walked and walked, barely remembering to mutter the password, "Sacrifice", to the Fat Lady's portrait so as to gain entrance into the Gryffindor common room. There, he got the shock of his life.

"L-Luna?" What was the object of his daydreams doing in the Gryffindor common room, no less? She stood up from the red velvet armchair she had been sitting on and faced him.

"Neville," she greeted him. He was, to say the least, bamboozled.

"How'd you get in here?" Oh, like there aren't any other things you'd rather ask her, he thought. You make her sound like a murderer or something. You idiot.

"I guessed the password," she said simply, and she walked over to him.

"Why?" Neville realized that Luna was standing closer to him than ever before. He could see the faint misty colour of her wide, amazing eyes, the pale blonde eyelashes framing them perfectly, the faint curve of her nose.

"I've been waiting for you," she explained, and she carefully pressed her lips against his.

All was well in the world.