A/N: Nope, don't even own the title, the genius that is JK Rowling does. She also owns all the characters and places. Wait! I own Healer Joan, I think... Feedback please, no flames.

He went every Christmas; gift in hand, small talk on the mind.

This time would be different, he told himself. This time they would know him a bit better.

"Happy Christmas Mum! Look what I brought you."

She stared back at him, dull eyes landing on the package he held out to her.

"..."

She fingered the gold bow and traced the painted holly on the red paper. She made no move to take it.

"Here I'll open it for you. It's a snow globe. Healer Joan charmed it, so it won't break if you drop it or something. Do you like it?"

She was probably just shy. Yes that was it, she was probably shy and a bit disoriented, she had been napping when he'd come in after all. As a matter of fact, his father still slept, but his mother had always been the lighter sleeper. Or so he'd been told.

"Pretty."

Clumsy fingers gripped at the glass globe, watching as the small white specks floated down on the miniature town. Inside little houses twinkled, covered in Christmas lights, holly, tinsel, and all sort of decorations. A giant tree stood in the middle of town, decked out in all the trimmings, the star at the top seemingly glowing.

"Yeah it is. Do you think Dad will like it?"

Of course his father would like it there was no need to ask, not really. He had once been told that his father's favorite holiday was Christmas. He'd picked the scene with his father in mind. His fingers felt around the bottom of the globe and slowly he turned the key until the well-known tune of 'Silent Night' reached his ears.

"Pretty."

Her favorite carol, she probably didn't know that now, but maybe she'd remember. Maybe she'd remember how to sing along, like she did before. Maybe she would remember how to make ginger bread that supposedly rivaled anything magic could conjure. Maybe she'd remember that his father had proposed on Christmas Eve besides a somewhat decorated evergreen. Maybe she'd remember he was her son.

"We'll show him when he wakes up. Okay?"

His father would delight in it. He'd want to shake it again and again. Like he had with the other one, only this time it was charmed, so when it fell on the cold hospital floor, it would only roll about. There would be no loud crash as glass shattered, no ear splitting scream of surprise, no sympathetic looks from the Healers as he tried to calm his father, tune out his Grandmother, and clean up the puddle that formed around the shards of glass, no-

"Come Neville, time to go home."

His heart sank as a lump rose in his throat.

"But Gran we just got here."

It had only been half an hour, and it was Christmas...they always stayed at least an hour and a half on Christmas. He didn't want to leave. Not without at least saying hello to his father. He stood rooted in his spot, staring at his mother, whose glazed eyes were fixed on his Grandmother behind him.

"Now Neville! Say good bye, we're going."

His Grandmother seemed to shiver beneath his mother's eyes. She'd never been comfortable around them, not really. Nor had she ever been fully happy leaving him with them. On most occasions she was more than glad to just wait for him outside, chatting up one of the Healers until it was time to go. He turned back to his mother, gently grabbing her hand.

"Bye Mum. Tell Dad-"

'I love him.' The words never made it out.

"Now Neville!"

He blinked hard trying hard not to cry. He wanted to say so much, more than he could ever put into words. He'd hug her, kiss her on the cheek but that might frighten her. After all to her, he was little more than another stranger. He looked at her. She was looking right him, but her mind was far away. He opened her hands until they were firmly around the globe. She stared down at the object in her hands, and he moved to turn the key one last time.

"Happy Christmas Mum. I love you. "