This is part of the Twelve Fics of Christmas challenge which has been organised by TheOriginalHufflepuff.

This is based on the 'Heart' prompt, number five.

This little Christmas fic is dedicated to all.

I hope it brings smiles to all of you.

Christmas on the Janus Thickey Ward

Every year I spend my Christmas on the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo's.

Every year I go with Gran to visit Mum and Dad on the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo's.

Every year Christmas is the same on the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo's.

So I expected nothing this year.

After fifteen years of visitng Mum and Dad at St Mungo's I was pretty much just going to give up all hope. The Healers all say there's improvement, but to me, as far as I could see, nothing had ever changed. I think my first memory of visiting Mum and Dad at St Mungo's was when I was four. They just layed in their beds most of the time, Mum got up for a walk occasionally and Dad clapped his hands every now and then, but that was it. That's what they did then and that's what they do now. Nothing had changed in eleven years, the Healers were just trying to give me a little bit of hope, which is nice and all, but I'm sixteen and I knew there was none at all.

I hate it when Gran sits with me by their beds. She just watches me look at Mum and Dad. She says a few things to Mum and Dad and then she shuts up and tells me to talk to them. I say a few things too, but I want to say more to them. They only reason I don't is because Gran is watching me like a hawk and she listens to every word I say to them. It's embarassing. I enjoy those moments when Gran leaves to get a cup of tea or some fresh air and I get to spend some time with Mum and Dad alone. Then I talk to them. I tell them about school and about my friends and about how I miss them all the time and about how I really don't like living with Gran because she scares me sometimes. They still don't say anything, they never do, but I can tell they're listening because Dad stops clapping and Mum starts smiling and they both look at me like they're little children listening to bedtime stories. Then Gran comes back and Dad starts to clap again and Mum begins to hum and look out the window and I get moody and Gran doesn't seem have the slightest idea of what she just interrupted.

That is what it is like every year.

But this year when Gran went to get a cup of tea and go for a walk and I was left sitting by Mum and Dad's beds something else happened.

"...And I'm doing loads better in Potions this year, we've got a new teacher. I think you had him when you were at Hogwarts. His name is Professor Slughorn. He says you were really good at Potions, Mum. He says that he saw my marks from the other years and he thinks I'm really improving, it's really good. I'm really proud of myself... All my friends are well. Harry's a bit depressed, but I can understand that because he just lost his godfather. You know we were in the Department of Mysteries earlier this year? We were fighting the Death Eaters..." I paused. Mum and Dad were listening to me. Dad was staring at me and Mum was beaming. I smiled.

Mum suddenly started to look about for something. She rummaged through her pockets and the drawer beside her bed. Then she pulled out a shiny, silver Drooble's Best Blowing Gum wrapper. My Christmas present from her. She likes to give them to me whenever I visit and she always saves the shiny, silver ones for Christmas. I've only got eleven silver wrappers because Gran took the others ones from me when I was little and threw them out telling me I didn't need more rubbish. I keep them though. I've got seventy-three plain white wrappers and only twelve silver wrappers. I keep them in a little box that I take with me to Hogwarts and keep in the drawer in my bedside table. I slipped my twelfth silver wrapper into my pocket and smiled at Mum and hugged her.

"Neh-ool."

I released Mum from our hug and looked at her. She was still beaming at me.

"What?" I whispered, wanting desperately to hear her say whatever she had said again so I could be sure of it. My heart was beating wildly...

"Neh-ool."

Her voice was quiet, hoarse, barely audible. But it was her voice. I had only ever heard her hum or cough or sneeze or hiccup. I had never heard her speak. But she had spoken. She had spoken to me. She had said my name.

It was then that I realised that there was all the hope in the world for Mum and Dad. Something about the way that my heart beat crazily and the way that my body twitched trying to keep all the joy inside of myself and the way that Mum's quiet, hoarse voice had embedded itself in my memory, told me that hope exsisted somewhere.

This year Christmas was different on the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo's.

This year Christmas brought hope on the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo's.