AN: I am fully aware of what JKR said about what happened to Neville and Luna after the Battle of Hogwarts, and I am choosing to ignore anything that wasn't explicitly stated in the books. I don't own these characters, but if someone offered me my own personal clones of them, I wouldn't decline the offer.

Neville sat down in his office. Goodness gracious, this had been a long day. His students had been almost impossible to deal with, and that was putting it nicely. He swore that if one more of them had tried to decapitate a mandrake, he'd try to decapitate them. Of course, he would never actually lay a hand on a student, that simply wasn't in his nature, but, still. The thought had entered his head today more often than he ought to admit if he wanted to maintain an outward appearance of sanity. He rubbed his hands over his eyes as he sunk into his chair, hoping to clear away the memories of the day.

He picked up a copy of the Quibbler from his desk. He didn't necessarily believe everything printed in it, but he still took the time to read every line. He ought to, of course, since his wife was the editor. A small laugh escaped his lips, as he knew full well that, if he was really trying to convince the world that he was totally sane, he wouldn't have married her. That didn't stop him, of course. As he thumbed through the pages once more, he smiled, picturing her hunched over, quill in hand, hurriedly getting things ready for the next issue.

Suddenly, he heard a noise from his fireplace. When he turned his head, he could see Luna's face sticking out of the coals, smiling up at him. "Hello, dear," she said, her voice slightly distorted. The Floo Network had a tendency to do that lately. "I thought you might be done with work by now." She quickly took note of his tired face. "Long day?"

"That would be an understatement." He crouched down by the glowing cinders. "I had to send four different students to the infirmary today because of improper usage of spades. And one of them was a fourth year! Can you believe that? A fourteen-year-old boy nearly cut his own hand off trying to avoid some Devil's Snare."

"Do I recall a certain second year who managed to get himself hung on a chandelier by Cornish pixies?" she asked with a smirk. One look at his disgruntled expression told her he was not in the mood for jokes that evening. "All that I'm saying is that everybody has a spot of bad luck now and then, especially students. Even fourth years forget about the spades in their hands every once in a while, and, perhaps, every so often, a thirty-year-old woman may get her hand bitten by a gnome and let her pencil get stolen by nargles on the same day." She simply smiled. Neville knew that these things didn't particularly bother her. He'd learned quickly not to show concern, because such concern would quickly be met with pure confusion on Luna's part.

"Is that what happened to you today?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Yes, actually." She grinned. "And I think we've got a lead on the location of a Crumple-Horned Snorcack."

Neville knew that Luna had been working on that story for months. "Well, that's wonderful news!" He leaned back just a bit, trying to take in as much of her face as he could, despite the fact that her face was, essentially, etched from cinders. No matter. It still had the same features, more or less. "It's barely even October," he groaned. "Would you know that, as a student, I dreaded Christmas, because it meant going home to Gran and leaving you and Dumbledore's Army behind, and now I can hardly wait for it, because I can't see you until then?"

"Well, you see me right now." She raised her eyebrows, sending a spark from the cinders flying behind her.

"It's not the same, love." He sighed. Christmas would not –could not- be long enough this year. Any year, actually. Just to get back to their little house would be an absolute blessing.

"If it's any consolation," Luna said, smiling, "you might need to take at least a week's leave in May."

"What for?" The cinders that made for Luna's eyes glowed brighter. Neville imagined that, back in her fireplace at home, her eyes were twinkling. Besides the obvious fact that her eyes simply did that sometimes, he couldn't imagine why she would be especially happy now. "I'll be happy to be there, believe me, but why May?"

"For starters, you'll want to be there for the birth of the baby."

She grinned as Neville's jaw dropped. "The baby?" Her grin broadened. "Our baby?" She nodded, sending a few ashes flying around the room. "I can't believe –I mean, I'm incredibly happy, but, still… I helped to make a baby?" He leaned his head forward into his hands before finally deciding to lean his head into the fireplace, placing a kiss upon the cinders that made for his wife's face. He immediately regretted that decision, however, when he remembered that most things that had recently been on fire were usually still quite hot. "Ow. But, we're having a baby?

"Oh, yes, definitely. I think it's going to be a boy, you know. I've only been wanting to eat apples for the past seventeen days. Everyone knows that means the baby's a boy. Except in some larger species, of course, like Giant Tibetan Snorcacks and hippopotami, but I'm not sure those really apply in this situation."

A smile widened across Neville's face. "I don't care if it's a boy or a girl or a hippopotamus. I'll love it anyway." He wished she were there right then, so that he could throw his arms around her and kiss her without fear of his lips getting completely scorched. May couldn't come soon enough.