A/N: On the second day of Christmas, Cheeky Slytherin Lass gave too me, two canon fics, and a story about my OTP!


Neville doesn't remember much about his parents.

Hands pick him up, and they are rough and strong and gentle all at once. A low voice, a warm voice, telling him that he is a good boy.

There are no memories about being a young child and having them hold him in their arms.

His mother has a different voice, soft and sweet and just a little stern, and she sings to him sometimes. Words that he cannot understand but that make him happy all the same, and Neville laughs and claps and begs for more.

He certainly doesn't remember anything about October.

A loud noise wakes him up. He begins to cry.

Has never heard Bellatrix speak.

Sharp words, angry words, words that Neville cannot understand but that make him sob all the more. This woman is not his Momma. Is not his Gran-Gran.

Has only heard about the Crucio Curse, never seen it.

A flash of red. His mother screams, loud and twisted. Neville clambers at the side of his crib and begins to scream too.

Must not have been awake when it happened.

Sharp laughter. Papa is running, towards the crib, towards Momma, towards the strange and frightening woman. More light.

At least, that's what Neville says whenever his grandmother asks.

Cold fingers run over his face, lift him up by the chin. A nail presses against skin, far too sharp, and Neville sniffles.

It's a good thing that she doesn't ask often.

Soft words this time. Neville doesn't understand them either but, for some reason, every time that he wakes up from there on after, he swears that Bellatrix was promising to come back for him.