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After the final battle, there was time for anything and everything, it felt. The wizarding world was finally free of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Neville had the whole world at his fingertips. He even had fangirls—and what a grand thought that was. Girls being interested in him was still a novelty, and the looks in their eyes made him blush. He even had to go to the Black Lake to escape them. But sometimes, he wondered if they would be interested in him without his hero status. He doubted it.
"I'm a hero now," Neville mumbled, kicking a rock into the Black Lake. "It's a good thing. Gran is so happy. Her son, the hero. Her grandson, the hero. She's actually proud of me now."
"You were always a hero," Luna replied, her eyes far away. Neville wished he weren't pleased; people said that when they didn't want to tell the truth, or to pad his low self-esteem. Luna said it like a fact, like it was the simple truth, like she completely and utterly believed it.
She sat next to him, so close that Neville could hold her hand if he wanted to. He really wanted to.
"You were," Luna repeated.
Neville blushed and closed his eyes, savoring the moment. Luna thought he was worthy, even a hero. She could lean over and kiss him if she wanted to. He wanted her to. They would kiss and he would tell her how much he loved her, how much he'd missed her and worried about her during his hellish seventh year. He would tell her how beautiful she was. Luna would blush and smile at him, the smile she sometimes gave to the sky on a clear day. The smile that said all was good in the world. They would date and do those things couple did: hold hands, have romantic picnics, visit Madam Paddifoot's Tea Shop. They would share their first kiss in the midst of the beautiful Venomous Vernacutors in Herbology Greenhouse Five and spend hours searching for nargles in the Forbidden Forest. Neville would brave the forest, face his fears, just for Luna. He would do anything for her. Then he would propose at his grandmother's house after they finished Hogwarts, and they would marry in the summer, when Luna said nargels were the most active. They would name their children after their parents and grandparents: Frank, after Neville's father, and Lorcan, after Luna's grandfather. They would grow old together for the next century and never part. It was a beautiful dream.
"I'm not enough of a hero for you, though," he said quietly, breaking out of his fantasy of a life with Luna. She didn't want him—not the hero he was now, nor the boy he had been when they first met.
"I don't need a hero. I'm sorry Neville," she said. Her voice was light, airy. She didn't sound sorry at all. It was Loony's voice, that tone she used in situations too uncomfortable for her to be herself. He hated himself for putting her in this situation. She hadn't been this uncomfortable with him in a long while, maybe since the first few weeks of their friendship. He hated her for putting him in this situation—for being so lovely, so wonderful, that he had no choice but to fall in love with her.
Draco Malfoy sat down on the other side of the lake with a book and they stared at him, unable to look at each other. Neville wondered if she would have a wonderful life—his wonderful life—with Draco or Justin or Harry. He wondered what he was missing. Was there something crucial that he missed, something no one would tell him, something off-putting about him that everyone noticed but no one voiced?
He wished she weren't honest, but that was like wishing the professors would cancel final exams. Luna never lied. He wished she did. He would have taken anything. Of course, she probably knew that, too.