A/N: Okay, this one-shot was born from riding 6 hours in a car and having nothing better to do than listen music. The song's title is 'Pille vir Kerfees' by 'Die Heuwels fantasties'. Both Afrikaans. Transated it mean Pills for Christmas and the band means The Hills Fantastic – no, I did not put that in the wrong order.
I own the books and the song, though not the exclusive rights to them.
Pills for Christmas.
It was merely a month, maybe two, or two and a half, after it happened. He wasn't sure. Time had temporarily become virtually non-existent for him. He didn't even know it was Christmas when he woke up that morning. Not even the lone present alerted him to the Holidays.
The first sign he caught of Christmas was when he saw the snow, the carollers… the mistletoe, the smell of mince pies… it all wafted to him. He shook his head dazedly. Could it possibly be?
Could it be Christmas? Oh, where did the time go?
Funny how the building could enfold him in… was it warmth? Were he a muggle, he would've compared it to an electric blanket. He guessed his mother's warm love hadn't left the old dreary place known as Spinner's End. It floated over the mountains to enfold him, embrace him and hold him tight. Keeping him safe.
How he wished he was gifted pills for Christmas for his charred nerves. But it was also nothing a home near the sea couldn't heal. Who would want pills for Christmas, anyways? Of course it also depended on whose home he would invade and his hosts. His mother's heat was his host. Did he still want those pills? Actually, he had so much to be thankful for.
They, whoever these so-called intelligent 'they' may be, say that your home is where your heart is. What, then, was then attempting to jump out of his chest? A genetic machine, engineered to escape whenever it felt threatened.
Plasma that spits, a moving mass, that too much hurt has been done to.
I want pills for Christmas! For my worn nerves… Though it's nothing that a small place near the sea couldn't rectify. But who wants pills for Christmas? Depends on whose house I'm in. A price promotion phenomenon, yet still so much to be thankful for.
