The Day the Quibbler was Right

Neville could sense the barbs of consciousness prying at him, urging him to awake, awake! Neville reflected that if he was thinking things like "barbs of consciousness" he probably was mostly asleep, after all.

Neville rolled over and burrowed his face deeper into the comfort of the starched hotel pillowcase. Mmmm. So nice. He twitched the edge of the sheet off of his legs, letting the cool night breeze wash over his feet. It's so nice at night in . . . where are we now? Well, it's nice. Especially the hotel room. Well, he'd loved all of those. But how could he not? He didn't think he would have minded spending the entire Honeymoon in a hotel room. There was really quite a bit you could do in a hotel room.

Neville felt an unmanly giggle struggling to burst out of him; and satisfied himself by grinning maniacally into his pillow. He was so happy. So, so happy. He'd always thought the expression "floating on a cloud of happiness" was dotty, but now he realized all those cliché poets had a point.

He shifted slightly to the left, expecting to feel another warm body against his, but his back met nothing but the cool night air. He scooted farther, and then rolled over entirely. No doubt about it. He was alone.

Neville opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows. He received an immediate impression of lots of darkness, a large, rectangular patch of stars, and, near the foot of the bed, a moving cluster of tiny, shimmering, purple lights.

Aha! There you are! He'd recognize those knickers anywhere. They were from Madame Malkin's special line of Light-Up-My-Life Lingerie. He'd bought them for her himself.

"Luna?" he called out, voice rough with sleep.

The purple lights moved, and then disappeared. He heard a mumbled spell, and the candle on the nihtstand flared to life.

Luna was wearing an old Gryffindor t-shirt of his. The red, lion-emblazoned top really looked much more interesting on a half-dressed Luna than it ever had on him. Her hair, loose and rumpled from sleeping, stretched in dark golden glory almost to the fraying hem of the t-shirt.

She smiled absently at him, then walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. "Hi," Luna said, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

"Hey," he replied taking her hand.

"I thought I saw movement!" she whispered, "I'm going to check. Want to come?"

"Sure." Neville sat up and put his arms around Luna's waist. "Love you."

She kissed the top of his head and slipped out of his embrace. "Hurry! I don't' want to miss them." She grabbed the camera from desk and balanced it on the window sill.

"You're not bringing it?" Neville asked.

"No." She adjusted a dial on the side of the camera. "The picture will be better from here."

"Oh," he replied, pulling on a pair of striped pajama pants. It's the middle of the night, it's not like anyone's going to see me, he thought.

Luna gasped. "Look!"

Neville looked. Something was moving out on the grounds.

Luna dashed out of the hotel room, a blur of Gyrffindor-red and luminous purple.

Neville swore and ran after her, still only half dressed. They were only on the second floor; Luna took the stairs. Neville followed, panting as he careened down steps.

Luna tore out of the stairwell, past the bemused desk clerk and out the front doors. She stopped abruptly in the middle of the lawn, looking around. Neville almost ran her down.

"Too late?" he asked, breathlessly.

Luna was looking disconsolately around the deserted field that was the hotel's front garden. Moonlight, sleeping flowers, a fountain. Nothing else. She nodded. "Too late."

Luna sighed and Neville put his arms around her. She leaned into his chest and closed her eyes.

"We'll find them, I promise," he said into her hair.

Luna mumbled something, her voice muffled.

"What?" Neville asked.

Luna looked up, smiling. "I said--" Her mouth fell open.

"Luna?"

"Shh!" Luna snaked her arms around Neville's neck, using his shoulders for balance as she stood on tiptoe to see behind him. "Photographus!" she whispered, pointing her wand back at the hotel. "Photographus! Photographus automatus! "

Neville froze, realizing what she was going on. Luna had told him what to do if this happened. Silent and still, she'd said.

Neville turned his head very slowly sideways. There, lolling a little ways behind his left foot, was an entire family of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.