Disclaimer: Don't own it.
A/N – This was inspired by Waterfall's Coming Home for Christmas. I recommend you all go read it, it made me cry.
This is about Neville's Christmas.
CHRISTMAS MIRACLES
By: Hopeful Writer
Neville busied himself by putting ornaments on the small Christmas tree. "Maybe Santa will come tonight, guys. Then maybe you'll get those gifts you've been hoping for," he murmured to the two other occupants of the room.
He looked at the man and woman who sat motionless beside him. "And maybe I'll finally get my Christmas wish," the fifteen-year-old added, feeling a familiar burning sensation as the tears prickled against his eyelids.
"Neville, darling. You'll come back tomorrow with presents for your parents. It's time to go home, dear." It was his grandmother. One thing about her was that she was always very understanding of his need to see them alone. She would talk to them by herself for a few minutes, then let Neville spend the rest of the time with them alone.
He sighed as he left, willing himself not to cry in front of his grandmother. "Do you believe in miracles, Granny?" he asked when they were home.
She smoothed the curls in his mass of brown hair. "Of course I do, Neville. They happen to everyone, if you wish hard enough."
"Do you think one will happen to Mum and Dad?" He looked so hopeful.
His grandmother sighed. "If you wish hard enough. Now go on up to bed. Tomorrow will be a long day."
* ~ * ~ *
Neville awoke the next morning tired. He had spent the better half of the night praying. He tried one last time before going to St. Mungo's. "Please, God, if you can hear me, just do me this one little favor. Just one thing, and I won't ask for anything else. Please make my parents better. Please make them recognize me when I walk in. Please." The tears were falling freely from his already swollen eyes. Squeezing them away, he dried his eyes and walked determinedly downstairs.
He arrived at St. Mungo's at 10:00, carrying two large parcels under his arms. When he arrived at his parents' room, they were still asleep. So he sat and waited for them to wake up.
Finally they did. "Morning, Mum. Morning, Dad. Happy Christmas. Here are your presents." He held out the gifts to his parents, who stared at him blankly, just like everyday. He fought against the clenching of his heart. Maybe miracles never did come true. He sighed and jerked his shoulders back.
"Here, I'll open them for you," he offered softly. First his father's. The sound of the paper echoed unusually loudly in the cold silence of the room. "Look, Dad! A new robe! You've got all those stains on your old one. Do you like it?" No movement. "I'm glad."
He turned to the woman who was his mother, who stared at the wall now, looking happier than when she stared at her son. "Mum, here's your presents." He unwrapped it, again noticing how loud the paper sounded in contrast with the room and his parents. "Look, it's a shirt with #1 Mom on it. It'll look great on you. Are you happy?" She didn't even look at him. "Great. I'm sure the nurse will help you get it on. It looks like Santa Claus was good to you guys."
He smiled at them, his eyes filled with love. "How about some Christmas carols?" He began to sing. "'Deck the halls with bows of holly. Fa, la, la, la, la, la la, la, la. 'Tis the season to be jo—'" His throat closed and he had to stop singing. "Sorry," he said, smiling apologetically at his parents, who were now looking out the window. "I'll try another song. 'Have yourself a merry little Christmas. Let your heart be bright. From now on our troubles will be out of sight.'" He smiled sadly. "I hope all your troubles are gone now. Don't worry about me. Mine will be gone eventually."
"Neville." It was his grandmother. "It's time to go. You have your presents at home to open."
"All right, Granny." He turned back to his parents, both of whom were looking at him now. "I love you both. Be good. I'll see you really soon."
He walked away slowly, but stopped when he heard a strangled voice whisper hoarsely, "I love you."
He spun around, his heart stopped and his stomach clenched. Both his parents were still staring vacantly at him. Maybe he imagined it. Or maybe... maybe there was a miracle that day.
A/N – Do you believe in miracles? Here's a little Christmas gift for everyone. No reviews necessary. It was just a present.