So there's this girl he knows. She sits in front of him on the Hogwarts Express with a magazine upside down in her hands. He watches her when he can, and when he can he enjoys it. He likes the small things she does: Tucking her wand behind her ear, reading textbooks backwards, making jewelry out of butterbeer corks.

Those small things make him laugh even when he didn't even want to smile.

He doesn't know if she knows what others think of her, but if she does he knows she doesn't care. She goes on with her style, and he admires her for it.

Some call her 'Loony.' He calls her beautiful. Some call her a mess. He calls her an angel.

He adores her singsong, dreamlike voice. It soothes him more than the very, very dim memories of his mother singing to him at night. When she turns around and asks him for an extra quill in Transfiguration, he's frozen by the mystery gleaming behind the soft skin and pale eyes. When she asks him if he can't hear her because of the Wrackspurts, he smiles and completely forgets what she asked him in the first place.

When she smiles and shakes her head in amusement, he could swear he's died and gone to heaven.

She drew his portrait on the ceiling of her bedroom, connecting it to other portraits with the word 'friends.'

But he wants to be more than friends with her.

She sends him owls over the summer, and he responds as soon as he can, occasionally asking for pictures using excuses like 'What if you've changed too much and I don't recognize you at King's Cross?'

When in reality he just wants to see her smiling face again.

This girl; her name is Luna.

And this boy; his name is Neville.

She sits in front of him on the Hogwarts Express.

So there's this girl, and he thinks he's in love with her.

Too bad he knows he won't ever have the courage to tell her.

A/N: So there's this girl. She's sitting at the computer typing this because he wanted to read a Neville/Luna pairing written by her.

And this girl; she thinks reviews are love.