A Wonderful Fortuitous Love

41. Neville and Luna

"You know when, sometimes you meet someone so beautiful. Then you actually talk to them and five minutes later, they’re as dull as a brick? Then there’s other people, and you meet them and you think, ‘Not bad. They’re okay.’ And then you get to know them, and their face sort of becomes them. Like their personality is written all over it. And they just turn into something so beautiful."

- Amelia Pond

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The wedding was at Luna’s house, outside, under the Weasley’s tent, which was lent over for the occasion. Not everyone had arrived just yet, but groups of people were forming, some wearing abnormal accessories and others going so far as to wear costumes (one man as a giraffe with wings), where they caught up with old relatives and friends.

Hermione sat on one of the many chairs placed under the tent, each facing the archway adorned with all kinds of flowers. Some she recognised, others she weren’t so sure were even flowers, and figured them to be Luna’s creation.

She should be out there talking to people, mingling in with the crowd. Only, she could not stop herself from thinking about what Draco had said. Harry knew. How much, she didn’t know. But he knew. And he had not confronted her about it. She wondered why, there had been so many golden opportunities for him to do so. It was so unlike him to leave something like this alone without wanting answers. Maybe he thought she was better than that, thought she would never betray Ron like that, and so maybe he did not believe Draco. Maybe he was mad. So mad at her for not telling him herself, so disappointed he had no words to express it, therefore leaving the situation until she confronted him. Or maybe the whole thing was a test, to see whether she’d ever tell him at all.

“Hello, Hermione.”

Hermione jumped, twisting around in her seat to see who’d startled her and gave a sigh of relief. “Luna. You scared me.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Quite a lot of people say that when I come up behind them like that.”

“Imagine that,” she said dryly, and then she saw the basket she was carrying. “Why have you brought radishes?”

“Oh.” Luna smiled. “I was actually wondering if you could help me.” She walked outside the tent, Hermione following curiously, and looked up at the roof of it, both women using their hands to shield their eyes from the bright rays of sunlight. “See, I’d like to have them floating around the edges of the tent.”

“Why?”

“For decoration, of course,” Luna said, like this was perfectly obvious. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at the basket. One radish twitched slightly, and then it was gently floating through the air until it reached the top of the tent, where it began bobbing almost lazily around. “There.”

A thought suddenly stuck her, and Hermione glanced back at the pocket Luna had pulled her wand out. Her pants were red. Shirt purple. “Luna,” she started, “you do know the wedding’s in less than an hour?”

She nodded, eyes transfixed on the radish she was currently directing through the air.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”   

“You couldn’t do all these radishes by yourself, Hermione.”

“I can get help.”

“Harry’s not here yet.” She paused. “I suppose you could ask Ron. Look, there he is now.”

Hermione followed where Luna was pointing and felt herself stiffen. Resiting the urge to cover her face with the basket, she turned quickly back to Luna. “Actually, I think I could do them myself. There’s not that many, really –”