A/N: Welcome to "The Raven and the Blade!" This is my latest Harry Potter piece, and it bears some explaining.

Like many of you Potter fans, I went to see Deathly Hallows, Part 2 at the midnight premiere. It was an amazing movie, and one that will be definitely watching again. However, in that movie, one thing caught my attention. It was a line from Neville during the Battle of Hogwarts that I nearly missed, it was spoken so quickly.

Neville: I feel like I could spit fire! Have you seen Luna? I'm mad about her; figure I should tell her, since we'll probably both be dead by dawn!

That line gave me pause. What was this? Movie!Canon Neville/Luna shipping? I knew that in the books, JK Rowling had made it clear that Neville and Luna had both married different people. However, in the movie, the final scene of Neville and Luna sitting next to each other in the remnants of the Great Hall, looking awkward and unsure, solidified it for me. I had to explore this pairing more.

Thus this story came to be. Told in four parts, and strictly movie canon, it follows the brief snippets that we did not see while the Trio was out hunting horcuxes. If this Neville/Luna pairing is true within the context of the movie, there had to be background. A good relationship does not just spring out of nothing. There was more to this surprise pairing, I could tell. This story is my imagining of such events.

Summary: While the Famous Trio was out searching for Horcruxes, Hogwarts was being taken over by cruel tyrants. This is the story of the once-clumsy boy from Gryffindor who led the rebellion within the walls and the "loony" girl from Ravenclaw who gave him hope. Neville/Luna, complete.

Part 1: Repeat Offenders

"And so, you must all understand that Muggles are very dirty creatures, and should not be tolerated at any cost. Pure blood wizards are above them, you know, and as we are superior, they must bow to us. They have spent too many years chasing us into hiding, fearful of their ignorance! Now, it is our time to seek revenge!"

Neville Longbottom shifted in his chair, attempting to arrange his features into something resembling interest in treating Muggles like animals. He watched Alecto Carrow pace at the front of the room, spouting the platitudes of the Dark Lord and the joys of torturing Muggles and Mudbloods, pretending that he truly cared about the filth that was pouring from her lips.

Every so often, he would allow his gaze to flit around the room, taking in the expressions of the other students. Many stared blankly at the wall behind Alecto, but a few looked nauseated, and Neville felt his pity turned to concern—if they showed too much feeling, they would be targeted by the pseudo-professor prancing with macabre delight before them. The Carrows had no qualms about torturing students who disobeyed or showed any sign of compassion for Muggles, or inquired into anything that was not Dark Magic. Neville still bore the signs of the last time he had crossed Alecto's brother, Amycus, when the latter had demanded that he use the Killing Curse on a young second-year who had dared to cross him. Neville's back still ached from the beating he received, but the life he had saved had made any pain worth it.

"You!" Alecto had paused in her monologue to survey her timid and almost empty classroom. The first year under her scrutiny quailed, and Neville realized that she looked ill, disturbed by Carrow's loving speeches about torturing Muggles.

"You look as if the idea of killing Muggles does not please you. Could you tell me why?"

Neville stiffened at the coaxing tone Alecto used. Much like Dolores Umbridge, it was when she was appearing at her most gentle and kind that she was most dangerous.

Don't fall for it, don't fall for it, don't believe that she could be kind…

Ah, the innocence of the young. The first-year shook her dark hair out of her face, and some of her timidity faded at the smile Alecto offered, twisted though it may be. "I don't like," she said loudly, as a murmur swept the room. "My mother is a Muggle, she's not an animal!"

Bugger. Neville closed his eyes in horror at the young girl's answer, his heart sinking in his chest. This would not end well, for him or the girl. If she wanted to leave this classroom alive, he would have to do something.

A mocking snarl twisted Aleco's lips as she towered over the girl. "Not an animal? Are you sure? I've found that Muggle women are often bitc-"

"Professor," Neville called out, grinding the word between his teeth. He hated to use that revered title on such a disgusting human being, but the consequences would be harsher if he did not.

Standing, he found he had drawn Alecto's attention away from the young girl, whose eyes were wide, trembling with fear and the realization that she might be now facing punishment for voicing her opinion.

The witch's eyes narrowed as she studied him. "Yes, Longbottom?" Her tone was silky and cautious—both the Carrows had learned over the past year that at Hogwarts, Neville Longbottom would not pass up a chance to deflect punishment away from younger students. He also had a habit of nearly inciting riots, and the Carrows had learned to use caution when confronting him.

Leaning against his desk and affecting a casual tone he didn't feel, Neville found his gaze locked with hers. "Professor, you hate Muggles."

Alecto's beady eyes glinted. "At last you seem to understand something in my class Longbottom, very good. Yes, I do hate Muggles."

"Yes, Professor," Neville agreed, straightening and letting his wand slide into his palm. "I have one question, though: Do you hate Muggles because you and your brother both have some Muggle blood? How much do you have?"

The handful of students that were in the room all shifted in their seats, and a low murmur rippled around the room. Neville saw eyes brightening, and smiles twitched at the edges of lips—the first signs of hope he had seen in a class in weeks.

However, as Alecto failed to answer, the students fell silent, and Neville felt the room thicken with tension. He refused to lower his gaze and tightened his grip on his wand, idly wondering what the punishment would be for defending oneself against a professor. Would he be hauled to Snape's office, or just executed on the spot?

"You dare," Alecto suddenly spat, raising her wand, " to imply that I am less than pureblood?"

Her words ended in a shriek, but the young man before her refused to flinch. "Yeah, I am," he said calmly, as if they were discussing the weather. "I want to know how much Muggle blood you and your brother have."

In response, Alecto whipped her wand towards him, shrieking a spell. Neville didn't have to know what the spell was, nor did he care—he simply braced for impact.

With a wind that rippled past him, the spell slashed his cheekbone, leaving a jagged line across his skin that burned on contact. Once the burning faded, the wound resorted to the harsh, pulsing pain of a fresh injury, and Neville could feel the blood trailing down his cheek, dripping from his chin.

Aside from rocking back a step, he had refused to back down, and he kept his chin high and fixed Alecto with a fierce glare, as if he hadn't just been injured.

Seeing that her target refused to budge, Alecto's nostrils flared, as if contemplating another spell she could use to put this upstart in his place. However, the class was over, and the woman had to concede a draw, for the moment.

"Class dismissed," she barked, stalking out of the room while the students filed silently out behind her, heads down, all pale with fear. The younger students dispersed into the small pond of students that still roamed the corridors of the school, while Neville headed for Transfiguration, mopping at the blood with the torn sleeve of his shirt.

He only looked up when fellow Gryffindor Seamus Finnegan fell in beside him. Seamus looked as if he had had betters days as well. One eye was blackened, while he attempted a smile through two puffy lips that leaked blood. Despite his injuries, his eyes were sparkling with good humor, as if he had just played a marvelous prank.

"Blimey," Neville breathed, keeping his voice low, "What you do to deserve that?"

Seamus' lips contorted into a gruesome, wide grin. "Carrow wanted me to Crucio a boy who had the guts to talk back to him. I refused, telling him I was too busy trying to figure out why He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named chose buggers like him to be Death Eaters. I told Carrow that I figured he was chosen for his stupidity, so He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would feel smart." Seamus's words were a little muffled by his injuries, but his eyes gleamed with triumph.

"Bloody hell, Seamus," Neville whispered fiercely, "he could have killed you for that! What were you thinking?"

Gesturing to Neville's still-bleeding cheek, Seamus offered the facsimile of a wry grin. "The same thing you were, mate."

Upon entering the Transfiguration classroom, they were immediately set upon by a harried Minerva McGonagall.

"Honestly, you two!" She hissed, leading them aside as students crowded into the classroom. It did not matter than Transfiguration was beyond their level—all students knew that Minerva McGonagall's classroom was one of the last safe havens left within Hogwarts.

"I don't want to have to attend the burial of my students while I'm still alive!"

Although her words were harsh, Neville could see the glimmer of pride that lay behind the worry and concern. McGonagall did what she could for all students, but she continued to reserve a special affection for the students of Gryffindor House.

"Longbottom, if you don't stop baiting Alecto, I can't promise she won't kill you."

Facing McGonagall, Neville offered a smile in the face of her concern. "You know I can't stop, Professor."

"I know you can't," McGonagall said ruefully, reaching out to place a hand on his arm—a rare gesture of affection. She understood that Neville and his friends were often the only ones that did anything to check the Carrows' reign of terror amongst the students.

"It's too much fun," Seamus chimed in, his words misshapen by puffy lips. His eyes twinkled wickedly as McGonagall turned to him, and she sighed, eyeing him with exasperated affection.

"You should take care with that 'fun,' of yours, Mr. Finnegan," she warned. "Some might not always share your amusement."

Sighing, McGonagall glanced over her shoulder at the filled classroom, all watching their discussion with interest and more than a little hope. "I suppose I must begin teaching before Severus descends," she commented wryly.

As Neville and Seamus started towards their usual seats, McGonagall waved them away. "Not you two. Go back to your rooms and clean up. You're excused."

Neville paused and turned back towards the stiff form of Minerva McGonagall. With her head held high, eyes flashing, daring anyone to threaten the students around her, she did not seem to be as old as Neville knew her to be.

"Come on, Seamus," Neville beckoned with a nod to McGonagall. "Let's go fix ourselves up. We aren't needed here at the moment."

"The world's gone bloody mad," Seamus mumbled cheerfully as they turned for the third time and surveyed the solid door that had seemed to melt out of the wall before them. "We're all doomed."

"That's the spirit," Neville shot wryly back, pulling open the door and following Seamus inside. "That's exactly the attitude a member of Dumbledore's Army should have."

"I'm not saying the world ending won't be fun," Seamus protested, following Neville past all the hammocks and walls decorated with school clothes. "I'm saying that it would just do to have some hope every bloody while."

Neville grunted with agreement, nearly before a solid wooden chest. Opening the lid, he extracted a jar and handed it to his friend, pulling the lid off to expose a pale green paste. "Careful with that," he warned. "We don't have much and there's no telling if we'll be able to get more."

"No idea if Pomfrey is being watched?" Seamus' words were coming out much clearer now, and Neville twisted around to find that the swelling in his lips were receding, as was the bruising around his eye.

"No," Neville grumbled, taking a bit of the salve and smearing it lightly on the gash that decorated his cheek. Unlike her brother, Alecto liked to ensure that her victim's felt the pain of her spells for weeks after, as Neville and his comrades had quickly discovered. Neville was sure it would be nearly a month before it completely healed.

"Any word from anyone?" Seamus asked, fiddling with the dial on a nearby radio, attempting to find the channel that broadcasted news of the wizarding resistance.

"Nothing," Neville sighed, leaning back against the chest. There were very few students here, in the middle of the afternoon. Gryffindor Tower had been all but abandoned, as students either didn't return after the holidays, or they had relocated here, to the Room of Requirement, which had become the base of resistance against the Carrows and their tyranny.

Neville surveyed the room, never completely relaxed. Although he was certain of their hiding place, he found that living in a world that was crumbling around him made one paranoid.

Listening absently to the radio, Neville found his gaze drawn to the wall hangings. The scarlet and gold of Gryffindor had been there since he had returned to his place, and the hammocks against that wall were the most numerous. Almost every student that had stayed at Hogwarts and considered themselves old enough to join the battle had relocated to this room.

The blue and bronze of the Ravenclaw banner caught his eye, and Neville noticed that a few more hammocks had appeared over the last few hours. He wondered who had joined, but knew that he would soon discover the answer to that tonight.

It felt odd to be a seventh year, to be only one of the few still in Hogwarts. Most of his friends, aside from Seamus, had not returned. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were either in hiding or on a mission, and Neville desperately wished that he could speak to them, to learn what their plan was, what he could do to help.

Ginny had not come back after Christmas—her family had gone into hiding, and she had gone with them. Luna had been taken from the train at Christmas by Snatchers, an event Neville still partially blamed himself for.

He remember her serene expression, and her silver eyes betrayed no fear as she followed the Snatchers from the train, looking for all the world as if she were leaving for the holidays, instead of being taken captive. No one knew of her whereabouts, and all of Neville's attempts to find out where she was being held had been fruitless. She could be in Azkaban, or being tortured by Snatchers. There were rumors that her father was a sympathizer with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and that Luna had been taken to ensure his cooperation, but nothing had been confirmed.

Neville closed his eyes, attempting to block out the memory of Luna's gentle good-bye on the train, the warm press of her hand against his, as if she were merely leaving for a few days and would be back shortly. Her quiet voice rang in his ears, and Neville shook his head, tears pricking at his eyes. Why hadn't he done something?

"Hey, mate." Seamus' voice broke into his tortured musings, and Neville looked up to find his friend gazing down at him in concern. "You okay?"

Passing a hand over his eyes, Neville banished any traces of tears, loath to show weakness when so many relied on him. When he glanced up, it was with steely determination.

"I can't wait for this war to be over."