Disclaimer: Not mine, of course!
A/N: This one really has been a long time coming. Sorry for the long Christmas bit, it doesn't have much relevance, just a nice starting point. I don't know what possessed me to write about Christmas in June, but hey-ho! What a nutter. I'm a Disney geek, utterly and completely. And proud of it!!
Thank-you's: A Catholic Girl, to whom Alice Pomona Longbottom belongs. Hondagirl, because some of the ideas in this were suggested to me by her. Thank you!

This was Neville's favourite time of the year, by far. Christmas time.

It hadn't always been that way. When he was younger, he dreaded it. Before Hogwarts, he hadn't really noticed it as anything special, like other children did. On Christmas day, they'd visit is parents in the morning, but Neville hadn't really understood that, either. They weren't his parents, they couldn't be. Frank was just a man who didn't wake up very often, who his Gran cried over. Alice wasn't like a mother, she was a stranger who gave him sweet wrappers. They didn't recognize him, either. Neville sat quietly by Alice for a few hours while his Gran spoke to Frank, then they went home again, and saw the rest of his family.

It was usually just Neville, his Gran, his Great Uncle Algae and his Great Auntie Enid for the rest of the day. They gave him presents. They usually weren't very good presents, because they'd thought he was a squib for years. His best Christmas present as a young child was a book of fairy tales, The Tales of Beadle the Bard.

When he started Hogwarts, people started getting excited about Christmas around November, talking about what they were asking for with their friends. Neville didn't really get excited until he saw the decorations, in December. They were vivid scarlets and bright greens. Numerous Christmas tree's were placed everywhere. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. At home, they'd only had one little tree, usually very poorly decorated.

His Gran wouldn't let him stay there. He'd thought it might be more exciting if he was around the light and the brightness and the real Christmas spirit he might enjoy it more. But he'd gone back to Gran's house. They'd visited his parents. He'd wanted to talk to them this year, just in case they could hear him. He'd wanted to tell them all about Hogwarts and the boys in his dormitory, and about the wonderful decorations, but when he'd got there, the words wouldn't come. He just sat and held Alice's hand.

Things had gotten during his sixth year, when he'd had real friends for the first time. He was friends with Luna, Ginny, Harry, Hermione and Ron. Luna and Ginny, especially. They'd exchanged cards, and for the first time in his life, Neville had proper Christmas presents. That year, he'd gone home, at his Gran's request. That year, he had spoken to his parents. He told them everything, his school and his friends, the DA, too, but only after he'd made sure his Gran wouldn't hear.

Christmas in his Seventh year had been strange. People were leaving school, and joining him in the Room of Requirement all the time. Luna had gone home, and Ginny, and he doubted if either of them would return. Neville couldn't go to his Gran, or to visit his parents this year. He had sat alone in the corner of the room, on his hammock, stroking Trevor. The others who hadn't been able to go home were drifting around the room, which they had decorated brightly.

The Christmases after the war were different from anything Neville had ever known. Sometimes they were spent at home with his Gran, visiting the hospital and his friends. One year, he was even away on a mission, and Harry, Ron and he had been forced to find alternative ways to enjoy it. The Christmases after that he had spent with Hannah, the woman who became his wife. They visited his parents in the morning, and spent the rest of the day with Neville's Gran and Hannah's dad.

The most recent Christmases, the past eleven, to be precise, had been spent with his wife, Hannah, and their children. Their children were, this year, home from Hogwarts, the same as he was. Alice Pomona was fourteen, a Gryffindor in her fourth year, Frank Colin Longbottom, better known as Frankie, was a proud Hufflepuff in his first year, both were back from Hogwarts for Christmas. His youngest daughter, Daisy Ginerva, was only seven, and still had five years with her Mother at the pub.

Neville himself had returned from Hogwarts for Christmas. He had been the Herbology Professor for nearing five years. As much as he loved his job, he loved Christmas with his family more. Hogwarts was far better with his son there, as well as his oldest daughter. He missed Hannah and Daisy everyday.

It was about a week from Christmas, and Hannah, Alice and Frankie were downstairs manning the pub. The Leaky Cauldron had got much more popular since Hannah had taken over as Landlady, about six years ago, and Christmas was always a busy time of year. They had moved from Godric's Hollow to London, to the flat above the pub, and neither Hannah nor Neville, nor any of the children, had ever been happier.

'Daddy? Can you come and sit with me? Please, Daddy, I'm scared!' Daisy called to him from the living room. The living room was unrecognizable this time of year. Neville always went over the top with the decorations, making up for what he hadn't had as a child.

'Of course, darling,' Neville said, sitting on the sofa beside her. He put his arm around her and she snuggled her face into his shoulder. He smoothed down her long, dirty-blonde hair and made soothing noises in her ear.

Daisy was seven, usually happy and smiling. She had a habit of conjuring up flowers from no where, and giving them to strangers in the street. Neville would be surprised if she wasn't in Hufflepuff. But then, Neville knew better than to assume as far as Hogwarts houses went.

He had been surprised right at the start, when the house had put him in Gryffindor. Even at the end of his first year, when Professor Dumbledore had said that he was courageous, Neville didn't think he was. But then, in his sixth and seventh years, when other people had started saying how brave he was, Neville didn't think so. Some people even called him a hero. Those people, Neville laughed at. He certainly wasn't a hero. He was just doing what Harry had told him to do. He was just doing what was right. What anyone would have done in his position.

But then, Neville thought, maybe that's what true courage really is.

His daughter was watching The Little Mermaid again. Sometimes it seemed like all she did was watch Disney films, and this one was currently her favourite.

'Silly Daisy, why do you watch this if it scares you?' he smiled at her.

'Because Flounder is my favourite!' She said, her face still buried in his shoulder. She peeked her face out, 'Daddy, Ursula is the worst witch in the world, isn't she?'

Neville thought about her question. He remembered Bellatrix Lestrange. The witch who had tortured his parents to insanity. The witch who had tortured Hermione, who had nearly killed Ginny and Luna. The witch who had killed countless people, who had ripped apart dozens of families.

'Yes, Darling. Yes, she is the worst witch in the world, but don't worry, she wont hurt you,' Neville said, smiling as he thought of all of the horrors that his precious baby wouldn't have to face. He whispered so quietly that Daisy couldn't hear him, 'I wouldn't ever let her hurt you.'

Neville wrapped his other arm around his daughter. He couldn't help but smile again. These were the greatest foes his daughter would have to face, the ones in the Disney films, and in her imagination.

Yes, Neville thought, this is what I fought for. A world where the worst witch's aren't real, and the only person I have to be a hero for is my daughter.