I'll be Home for Christmas
By: Anutheal
The ink on his quill went dry as he sat, trying to think about what to write to her. It had been years since they had last spoken, ever since his father had died….he quickly shook the thought out of his head, which was not something he wished to dwell on.
He re-dipped the quill and let the tip rest on the top of the parchment. He wasn't exactly sure what possessed him to write it now, maybe it was because it was Christmas Eve and he was alone, but that really should be no excuse, he's been alone every Christmas since he graduated from school.
He muttered a curse, breaking him from his train of thought. The ink had seeped through the parchment where his quill had rested, ruining it. He disposed of it by throwing it into the fire. A bitter laugh escaped his throat. It was the first pierce piece he had ruined NOT because of folly words.
Se he tried yet again:
"Dear Mother…"
And that's as far as he got before throwing the black feathered quill down in frustration.
He was getting nowhere.
………
His feet led him to the lake. It was late so no one was out, the children were sleeping awaiting the morning when there eyes would open wide with delight when they saw the Christmas tree loaded with presents.
"I'll be home…for Christmas," he sang quietly as snow fell, "you can count on me…
Please have snow….and mistletoe
And presents….on the tree…"
He choked and couldn't continue as the tear s fell for the first time in many long years.
He raised his head to the clouds, letting the snowflakes kiss his tear-stained cheeks, like the fingertips of angles gently caressing him.
He never did go home for Christmas, like he promised he would.
………
Back in his room he was repeating his long ago forged pattern, dipping his quill, the ink drying then dipping the quill again.
He continued that for what seemed like hours, before finally coming to a conclusion. He couldn't do this…he had been trying for so long to say something that seemed so hard to say….he missed her.
So he bundled up his quill and parchment and closed his inkwell, storing them, grabbed his wand and apparated away.
………
It looked smaller, as if it had shrunk, but he had grown. He was 16 when he was last there, for all he knew they didn't even live here anymore.
For a moment he hesitated and considered turning back, but something held him in place and he knocked.
There was a brief second where he again thought of turning around and high-tailing it out of there and then there was another second, a short hopeful second where he thought they might not be there and he would have to come back another time (which he knew he would never do). And then the door opened. There seemed to be no glimmer of recognition in matching black eyes. It was his brother, "Mom," he didn't break eye contact as he called for her.
His mother walked up, "who is it, son…" she cut herself short, "Severus?"
"Hi, Mom," were the only words spoken before a mother and son were at long last reunited in a tearful hug.
Severus smiled through happy tears, "I told you I'd be home fore Christmas, Mom,"
And he was.
FIN