A/N: This was written for the Trash to Treasure challenge over at the livejournal community, loonybottom. My prompt was #19 - Scissors.

I actually have NO IDEA if magical folk know what scissors are. Are they just Muggle objects, or are they used by wizards also? shrug All I can remember is Mrs. Weasley brandishing scissors at Bill, wanting to cut his hair, but considering how Mr. Weasley is fascinated by Muggles, I wouldn't be surprised if he had a few Muggle artefacts lying around the house.

Let's just say for the purposes of this story that scissors are purely Muggle objects that most wizards don't know about ;)

Really Quite Something

Neville Longbottom stared at the package in his hands, shipped all the way from Scandinavia. It was Christmas day, and he was sitting in the confines of his office by the greenhouses, surrounded by his favourite plants and flowers. His Mimbulus mimbletonia, which had managed to survive all these years, stood in one corner, so big now that it had surpassed the level of his desk, even on the ground. Upon it was an assortment of unopened gifts from the Potters, the Weasleys, his Gran and a few others, but he would get to them later. The most important one he was now holding in his slightly calloused, but still gentle hands. He unfolded the small scrap of parchment that had come with it, and admired the familiarly neat handwriting before reading:

Dear Neville,

Merry Christmas!

I hope you like the gift – make good use of them! Thank you for your early present, too. I needed a new travel diary as my current one is all written out!

I am currently trekking through Sweden, and by the time you get this I'll probably be stuck in a cosy little inn by a fire, having a quiet Christmas with Dad. He's still hoping we'll find some Crumple-Horned Snorkacks – but, as I told you in my last letter, I'm slowly giving up hope... Don't tell him I said that, will you? It would probably break his heart. Anyway, I'll be back right after the New Year. Hope you're not missing me too much.

Take care, won't you? And say hullo to Trevor for me.

Love your friend,


Neville smiled as he read, and once he had finished he had to go back to the top and read it through again until he had it practically memorised. He sighed. Hope you're not missing me too much, she had written. Too much? He hadn't missed anyone so much in his whole life!

Snapping his thoughts away from her pale, long flowing hair, dreamy smile and silvery eyes, his attention turned to the package in his hands. He unwrapped it quickly, eager to find out what was inside. There were two things: one was a bundle of chocolates and Swedish sweets wrapped in light green cellophane, and the other was a rectangular shaped box of blue velvet. After setting aside the confectionary, Neville stared at the box curiously. Surely she hadn't bought him jewellery? He opened it warily. Once it was open, a pair of sharp, silver and shiny scissors gleamed up at him. Neville had not expected this at all!

"Scissors?" he wondered out loud. He knew what they were, of course. He took pride in that, despite being pure-blooded, he knew quite a bit about Muggles and how they lived. Living in a dorm with Dean Thomas for six years certainly hadn't gone to waste, as well as being friends with Hermione Granger. But for the life of him Neville couldn't quite remember what these particular Muggle objects were typically used for. And he speculated for a second – Luna was a pure-blood too, so what was she doing sending Muggle scissors to him? Thinking that maybe it was just Luna being well, Luna, he brushed it off whilst he began to open the presents lying on his desk. But he couldn't stop thinking about it. Make good use of them… she had said. What did that even mean?

After Neville had opened the rest of his presents, he picked up the velvety box and looked inside at the shiny scissors again. He suddenly thought of his gardening shears that lay amongst all his other gardening tools that he used in the greenhouse. These scissors looked quite similar, but were obviously much smaller and not at all heavy. Surely these weren't for trimming small plants? He decided to stop agonising over it and put them away in a drawer of his desk before getting ready to head back up to the castle.

It was the day after Christmas, and after an unusually long lie-in Neville got up out of bed and began to get ready for the day. He still had a huge pile of essays to mark, and he would rather get them done now rather than later. Then he could leave some time to himself and his plants, as well as meet up with the Potters and Weasleys for dinner at The Three Broomsticks later that evening. He was planning to ask Hermione about the scissors.

After showering, Neville wrapped a towel around his waist and observed himself in the mirror. His green-eyed reflection stared back with the same relaxed expression. Droplets of water from his damp hair made their way down the lean muscles of his chest and arms. He figured he didn't look too bad, considering the amount of eggnog he'd consumed the previous night. He began to apply shaving cream to his face and then retrieved a razor from the cabinet.

He was in the middle of shaving when the mirror suddenly spoke, almost causing him to slip and cut his chin. "You really ought to get your haircut, dear. It's getting dreadfully long."

Neville glared, but then his features softened. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Suit yourself, dear," the mirror replied. Neville resumed shaving, and once he was done he washed his face and dried it with a small towel. Just before he left the bathroom to get dressed, the mirror spoke again. "I must say, you really are quite something," as if indicating his bare chest, and Neville blushed and exited the room so fast the towel around his waist nearly came undone.

Neville ate a late breakfast at the head table with the other teachers, and then headed down to the greenhouses. It was chilly out, even though the sun shone brightly overhead and the sky was clear. He wrapped his cloak and scarf more tightly around him as he made his way across the frosty grounds, looking forward to the slight warmth the greenhouses would provide. Once comfortably inside his office, he settled himself down at his desk and began the tedious and long task of grading the essays on self-fertilising shrubs.

An hour or so later, Neville's neck was aching and his writing hand was stiff. There weren't many essays left to mark, but deciding he needed a small break, Neville got up from his desk and stretched. He started to make himself a cup of tea. Whilst he was waiting for the kettle to boil a velvet blue box sitting inside a drawer of his desk came to mind. He thought for a moment, and then walked over to the door that would take him into Greenhouse 3. He peered through the glass and spotted what he was looking for – a Fanged Geranium was sitting in a hanging pot on the wall of the greenhouse. It had needed pruning for ages, but you needed great concentration in order to so as it was a delicate and small sort of plant, and the huge Herbology shears Neville owned would have to be manoeuvred ever so carefully. Neville looked back at his desk, and then back to the Geranium. Maybe, if he tried using these scissors instead of the large shears, it would be a much easier task…

Suddenly the kettle whistled and Neville busied himself in making his tea. Sitting back at his desk, ready to finish marking the essays, he made a mental note to prune the Fanged Geranium when he made his rounds of watering the plants for the day. He took a sip of the hot liquid, and then dipped his mottled-brown eagle-feather quill into the inkpot and began marking once more.

"Ouch! For goodness sake, it's not the end of the world!" Neville had just been bitten by one of the flower heads of the Fanged Geranium. He was used to being bitten occasionally, but this time the plant was feeling particularly more savage than usual. He lifted his left hand, which was holding the shiny scissors, and tried once more to get at a few of the dead flower heads that were taking up room amongst all the healthy ones. But just as before, the healthier flowers obviously did not like what those scissors were doing near them, and lashed out.

Frustrated and sucking on a forefinger, Neville decided enough was enough. His patience was limited, and he didn't have the time to tread carefully around the plant's disagreeable temperament. If he was to get rid of the dead flowers, he would have to be a little less gentle with the healthy flower heads…

Neville entered The Three Broomsticks and welcomed the warmth that hit his face, a definite contrast from the harsh cold winds blowing outside. It didn't take long for him to spot Ron and Hermione sitting at a table for six in the corner of the pub; Ron's flaming red hair a dead giveaway. He headed over to them, and Hermione spotted him first. She smiled brightly.

"Hi Neville, Merry Christmas!" She got up from her seat and gave him a warm hug.

"Merry Christmas Hermione," he replied, returning the embrace. Ron had also stood up by now, and shook hands with him.

"How are you, mate?" he said, and gestured for Neville to sit down.

"Yeah, very good. How about you?"

"We're both great. Christmas was lovely. I wish you could have come, Neville!" Hermione said wistfully.

"Yeah, the turkey was humongous!" Ron added. Hermione rolled her eyes. Neville merely grinned.

"I would have loved to, but they needed me at the school. Thanks for the gifts, by the way."

"You're welcome. Thanks for yours," Hermione said. "Oh, look, Harry and Ginny are here!"

Neville looked around towards the door, and there stood Harry and Ginny Potter, Harry looking still as young as ever, and his hair just as uncontrollable, searching for his friends. Ginny's hair fell around her face in loose ringlets, and she was bundled up in a coat and scarf. When she spotted Neville, she grinned broadly and pulled on Harry's hand and dragged him to the table.

"Neville, your hair has grown awfully long!" Hermione remarked casually, before taking another bite of her lasagne.

"Has it? I don't even notice," Neville replied, and ran a hair through his dark brown locks. It had a slight curl to it that he liked when it was at this length.

"You know Neville," Ginny began, twirling her straw, "I quite like your hair that length."

"Well, thanks," he replied awkwardly. He still wasn't used to compliments. And then a thought came to him… If Hermione thought it needed cutting, and Ginny liked it this length, what did Luna think of his hair? And then he wondered again, why did her opinion matter so much to him? Oh yeah, he mused, because you're kind of in love with her and she has no clue.

It was time for the five of them to part ways. They stood just outside the door to The Three Broomsticks, and exchanged goodbyes and plans to meet up to party on New Year's Eve. Harry and Ginny left first, Disapparating with a small 'pop'. It was just before Hermione and Ron did the same thing when Neville suddenly remembered about the scissors.

"Wait, Hermione, I forgot to ask you something earlier," he said hurriedly.

"Oh?" she said, turning back to face him.

"Yes, it won't take long, I promise."

Hermione turned to her husband. "You go ahead, Ron, I'll see you at home."

"Sure. See you on New Year's, Neville!" And before Neville could reply, Ron had Disapparated.

"So, what was it you needed to ask me?" Hermione said. They both shivered in the cold of the night.

"Well, you see, Luna sent me some scissors for Christmas," he began, and waited for Hermione's reaction.

"Scissors?" She had the decency not to raise an eyebrow. She had come to think rather fondly of Luna's eccentric nature. "What for?"

"You tell me!" Neville scratched the back of his neck. "Sorry if I sound… ignorant, but, what exactly are scissors used for? I mean I know you can cut things, but like, what sort of things, typically?" He blushed a little sheepishly.

Hermione smiled. "You're not being ignorant, Neville. Just the fact you know they cut things is a huge feat for a pureblood."

At this, Neville smiled also. "Right."

"Now, what they're used for. Many uses. Cutting paper, like wrapping paper for presents, cutting up meat, giving people haircuts… Can't think of anything else. I guess you'd use magic for most of those things?"

"Yeah, we do. Can you imagine my Gran with a pair of them?" They chuckled a bit at the thought. "Thanks Hermione."

"It's no problem! I'd better go before I get frost bite!"

"Sorry to keep you out here so long," Neville replied, feeling guilty.

"Ah, don't worry about it. It was lovely to see you again." She reached up and placed a friendly kiss on his cheek. "We'll see you on New Year's."

"Absolutely. Bye Hermione!"

After she was gone, Neville frowned as he began to make his way back up to the castle. Sure, he now knew what scissors were meant to be used for, but he was no closer in discovering why exactly Luna had bought him a pair of them.

The New Year came and went, and Neville was granted permission from the Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, to leave for the celebration. He spent a lovely night at the Burrow with the Weasleys and the Potters, but he felt like the six hundredth wheel, being surrounded by so many happy couples. It was at this time that he missed Luna more than ever. But, he held her to her promise that she would be back in the New Year, and so he could wait just a little longer, the mystery of the scissors still unsolved.

Luna appeared in the doorway of Greenhouse 3 a few days after the New Year, and walked in as if she did so every single day. "Beautiful day out, isn't it? Cold, but crisp. You can actually breathe."

"What?" Neville said abruptly, and turned around to face her. He had been watering a few shrubs, and had almost dropped the watering can at the sound of her voice. "Luna?"

"It's nice to see you, too," she said, but not indignantly. On the contrary, she was smiling so brightly surely her cheeks must be aching.

"I'm sorry! You surprised me. Come here," Neville said, and he put down the watering can as Luna walked over to him. They embraced, and Neville didn't want to let her go. She smelled like strawberries and vanilla and it was intoxicating. "I've missed you, you know." He couldn't believe he'd come out and said that.

"I know," Luna replied simply, and pulled out of his arms. Then she said the most random thing yet. "You haven't cut your hair."

"Huh?" Neville raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Those scissors I bought you."

"What about the scissors?" he said. Then suddenly, it dawned on him - why she had bought him the scissors in the first place. He went red a little, and thought quickly. "Oh. I er, I just haven't found the time, I guess. Plus, I can't really do it myself, can I?" Good cover up, he thought to himself. Although, he wasn't exactly lying. He HAD been busy and how was one supposed to cut their own hair? She didn't need to know that for a week or so he had been trying to figure out what in the world she had bought him the scissors for. Now that he knew, he wasn't sure how to feel.

"That Fanged Geranium looks like it's been hacked to death," Luna pointed out, looking thoughtful. Neville cringed – why hadn't he hidden it away whilst it recovered? He decided not to respond. Luna grinned a little in that strange, but oddly beautiful way of hers, and then said, "Let me do it."

"Do what?" Neville was slightly wary of the answer.

"Cut your hair."

Neville's eyes went wide slightly at the proposal. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, but surely this was going to turn out really badly. She was no hairdresser. "It doesn't need cutting, though…" Truth be told, that was a lie. It had grown to almost the length it had during his 7th year at Hogwarts. In fact, it was probably longer.

"Now, Neville, I'm not going to cut your ear off," Luna said calmly, as if she had read his mind. "I cut dad's hair all the time, and he thinks I do it wonderfully."

Neville was sceptical. Xenophilius Lovegood had done a great job of filling Luna's mind with weird and wacky things in the past. Even though Luna knew now that some of these creatures weren't real, how could he be sure that her haircuts were as good as her father said they were? But, he couldn't ignore the fact that she was here with him, in his greenhouse, and the light from the sun filtering in gently was making her look almost ethereal. He sighed. He couldn't say no to her.

"Well… alright," he said finally, and Luna's eyes lit up. "Just… don't cut it too short." He considered that if it was really bad, he could always use magic to tweak it to his liking. Hopefully I won't need to do that

"Wonderful. Now, where are those scissors?"

Neville rather reluctantly walked back into his office and retrieved the scissors from the drawer of his desk, and returned to see Luna had already placed a stool in front of her and had conjured up a black towel to put around him. He had to admit it was rather cute how excited she looked.

"Sit," she said, and he obliged, handing her the blue velvet box as he did so. Luna placed the towel over his front and shoulders, and opened up the box to get the scissors. "You ready, Neville?" she teased.

"Don't you need a mirror?"

Luna promptly transfigured one of the greenhouse's stools into a mirror, and it hovered in front of them, giving both a clear view of what was about to happen. "Don't worry; I'll transfigure it back once I'm done." Whether the stool survived or not was the least of Neville's worries.

And so, Luna began.

Snip, snip snip, went the shiny, silver scissors. Luna was almost done cutting Neville's hair. He had closed his eyes the whole time, stating that he wanted to be 'surprised'. The real reason was that he didn't want to show any kind of shock if it looked really horrible. He didn't want to offend her, and so the safest bet was to not look at it happening at all and hope to God that when he opened his eyes, it was alright.

"Okay, Neville, all done!" She took off the black towel, and Neville opened his eyes slowly, fearfully. He blinked once, and his mouth dropped open. It actually looked… good. No, better than good. This is bloody fantastic!

"Wow…" was all he managed to say. Luna beamed. "Thanks Luna! I love it!" He ran his hands through his now short hair and a grin quirked at the side of his mouth.

"Gosh, I've wanted to do that since forever," Luna said.

"So, the only reason you bought me these scissors was so you could cut my hair?" Neville asked. Luna nodded mutely. "But how did you know I wouldn't go and get it cut myself?"

"Because you're Neville," Luna replied, as if that answered everything, and it probably did.

"Well, I'm glad you're Luna," Neville said quietly, and his heart leapt as Luna wrapped her arms around him from behind and rested her head on his shoulder. They stared at each other in the hovering mirror for a while, until Luna broke the silence.

"You really are quite something, Neville," she said, making him blush. She had unknowingly repeated the words of his bathroom mirror just a week before, but the context was different. It had never felt more right.

Neville kissed her then, and Luna kissed him back, the scissors long forgotten on the floor.