(This is just a little tiny piece about Neville's parents after the war was over. I thought I'd break from my usual and write something uplifting for once.)
-The Day After Christmas-
Neville took a seat on the Hogwarts Express. It had been snowing for the past four days now, and as soon as the crystalized flakes slowed to mere nothingness, the conductor had deemed the conditions safe for students and professors to make their way homeward.
Beside him sat Hermione, her eyes focused on the wintery scene outside, but Neville could easily tell she was forcing her tears to stay deep inside. She would have an empty home to go back to this Christmas.
Ginny and Harry sat across from them, their fingers intertwined. Even as they sat in silence their love warmed the room. It was as if they had never been apart; true soulmates, Neville thought to himself.
Ron was seated on the floor in front of Hermione, his eyes closed and head rested on her knees. It was such a simple gesture of caring that Neville knew it calmed Hermione considerably.
Finally, Luna stood in front of the window, eyes glazed over with unshed tears. It was the first time any of them had seen her cry. Now, the blond witch was truly an orphan, and it was her obligation to go home to bury her father, her only remaining relative.
The train came to a squeaking halt outside of Platform 9 and 3/4. Neville rose, gathering the remainder of his things and, without enough bravery left to speak to Hermione or the rest of his friends, he exited the train.
As soon as he'd gotten into the men's bathroom he apparated with a pop, reappearing only seconds later outside of St. Mungo's. It was time for his parent's Christmas visit.
He trudged up to their room with a saddened heart, for even though Voldemort was gone, the evil wizard had taken too many with him. Neville was afraid he didn't have much jovial news to share with his Mum and Dad.
Opening the door, Neville slipped inside and took a seat on the edge of his mother's bed, but not before pushing his father's closer. It wasn't right that they were made to keep separate spaces, even in the same room! They were married, after all.
He stayed silent for a while before looking down on his mother, "Happy Christmas. I'm sorry I haven't visited before now."
A lone tear rolled down his cheek. He wished that they could talk back; say something to comfort him.
"We killed Voldemort. He's long gone. Bellatrix too," he forced a smile, "She got her comeuppance, she did."
He closed his eyes, unable to formulate the next words.
"I.. Mum.. Dad.. So many are dead," he sobbed, "The Weasley's lost Fred. Remus and Tonks are gone... Dumbledore... I couldn't bear to tell you when he died. It was so long ago."
"Hush," a voice said softly. Neville looked around. Certainly a nurse was hiding in here somewhere. Then he felt a soft, warm, emaciated hand touch his own. He looked down into the smiling eyes of his mother.
"M-Mum?"
"Hush your tears. I am so proud of you, Neville Longbottom."
"Wha-?" Neville's eyes were wide, "You can speak?"
"Happy Christmas, son," Neville's eyes flickered to his father now, who was eyeing him with such a look of pride Neville thought he might burst.
"But how?" He asked, so confused.
"They've invented a potion to help us recover," Mrs. Longbottom explained, her voice weak.
"But why haven't I been told before now?" Neville asked, his expression hurt and confused.
"It's our present to you, son. Our present for the day after Christmas," Neville's father took his hand.
Together, the three cried, joyous tears, no less for the rest of their day after Christmas.
(Hope you enjoyed! Please review!)