[A/N - I apologize endlessly for my lack of uploads. It's
been – what is it? A month? – since I posted my last story. I got bitten by some
macabre writing bug, so now I'm doing stuff that's either impossibly long or
impossibly stupid. I have roughly seven stories going on right now, and I'm determined
to finish all of them – therefore I'm not finishing any of them. ~rolls eyes~
Blame the irony gods. This is extremely short – less than a page long, and it
took my only twelve minutes to write. However, I like it. ^_^]
[Disclaimer - ~rolls eyes~ Do we really have to go through
this? Geez, these things are more tedious than science class. I own nothing.
~yells at lawyers~ There! Are you happy!?]
Neville
Longbottom, who had just turned five years old on December eighteenth, sat in
front of the fire with his Gran. It was Christmas Eve, and they had just
finished the traditional dinner.
Gran checked
her watch. It was almost 8:30 – Neville would have to go to bed soon.
"Neville?" Gran asked softly, and the boy jumped. "Do you want to write your
letter to Santa before you go to sleep?"
Neville
nodded and followed Gran into the kitchen, where she pulled out a piece of
plain white paper and a box of crayons. She set them on the table, and Neville
clambered onto a chair. "Tell him what you want for Christmas tomorrow," she
instructed before leaving.
Neville
opened the crayon box and picked red, the most cheerful-looking one in the box.
He meticulously wrote his letter in a large, careful scrawl on the paper. He
had to keep crossing things out, and he wasn't sure of the spelling of some of
the words, but a half hour later, he carefully folded it in half and padded out
into the living room and handed it to Gran.
She smiled
and slipped it into her dress pocket. "I'll make sure he gets it," she promised
her grandchild. "Now off to bed." She waved her hand toward the hallway, and
Neville scampered away.
Gran smiled
at the retreating back of Neville. He was so innocent and trusting. She got up
to get ready for bed herself, though she already knew that she wouldn't sleep
much.
Gran awoke
again at around midnight. She slipped on her glasses and headed out to the
living room to arrange the gifts under the tree.
She had
just set the last box down when she remembered Neville's letter. She slipped it
out of her pocket and opened it, curious about what he wanted for Christmas.
She read it slowly, tears obstructing her vision.
Dear Santa Claus,
For Crismus I would like Mommy and Daddy to get beter. I want
to live with them and make them love me as much as I love them. I wont ask for
annthing if you will make my wish come tru.
Sinserly,
Neville Longbottom
