Written for The Christmas Cards 1997 Challenge at the Sober Universe.
Been having serious internet issues so I'm glad I got it up on time :)
For all my friends at SU whose conversation I've been missing terribly these past weeks.
She doesn't have any parchment. Or a quill for that matter. Not that anything like that has ever stopped her before. She writes her Christmas letter in her heart, and believes that somehow it will reach him.
Papa, I am safe. Not safe precisely, but alive.
I am well. She still has her hope, what is more important than that? not the arm that was broken, or the bruise and cuts. Her heart is still whole.
I miss you. So much. The pain is too much to bare sometimes, when there is no Mr. Ollivander to help and the world is dark and mocking, trying to chip away at her light, he faith.
Be strong. Don't let them win. With everything she has and everything she is, she believes wholeheartedly her daddy will be okay, that he will be strong, that he will believe in her as she does in him.
Merry Christmas. Christmas Day is unlike any she has experienced, but there is still light, still hope. She has companionship, in the old battered wand maker. She even has a little extra food, some old fruitcake that is sent down reinforcing her belief that there is hope for even the death eaters at Christmas.
Love your Luna. And she was, always, his Luna, his little light and without her with him he could not hold on, he cowered before the darkness and her letter cannot reach him.