Veselé Vánoce, INSPIREDLIFE!
Title: Cemetery Christmas
Author: katmarajade
Written for: inspiredlife
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry Potter/Neville Longbottom
Rating: PG
Summary: Harry is always drawn back to Godric's Hollow on Christmas Eve. This year someone new joins him.
Word Count: 580
Author's Notes: I'm so glad that you returned for Year 5, bb! This one is just a little sad but also hopeful and sweet, so I hope you enjoy it!
Yet another blustery Christmas Eve, the sinking sun trying to paint the overcast sky with holiday cheer but the greyness winning out, and Harry Potter sat in an overgrown graveyard in Godric’s Hollow. The wind nipped at his cheeks and he wrapped his scarf more tightly around his neck, ducking his chin down into the wool.
Five years ago he’d spent his first Christmas Eve here with Hermione. They had been cold and hungry and desperately missing Ron, and eventually they had been attacked by an old woman who was being controlled by Voldemort’s pet snake and who also happened to have been quite dead. They’d nearly died and Harry had lost his wand, so ultimately it hadn’t been the best Christmas ever. (Not to mention the second one in three years that had been bollixed up by that same damn snake!)
Despite all of that, he still felt oddly drawn to this place every year on Christmas. He visited his parents’ graves throughout the year, but spending Christmas here was somehow more for him than for them, though he didn’t quite understand why. Hermione was the only one who knew where he snuck off to every year. Usually she slipped away from the madness of the Weasley family Christmas Eve celebration for a little while to bring him a bit of dinner or hot cocoa, but he knew that this year she wouldn’t be able to get away. This year she and Ron were expecting their first child at literally any moment, and Harry knew that between Ron’s fretting and Molly’s hovering, Hermione would not have a moment’s peace all evening.
Staring down at the grey, snow-speckled stone that bore his parents’ names, he let himself once again get lost in the what-could-have-beens. The darkness had started to deepen when he was startled out of his maudlin wool gathering by the sound of someone clearing his throat.
Harry looked up to see Neville standing beside him. So much for those war-forged, Auror-trained reflexes for which he was so well known. Without waiting for Harry to invite him, Neville sat down next to him, not even bothering to cast a warming or cushioning charm onto the ground first, for which Harry felt oddly touched. Silently opening a Thermos, Neville poured two steaming cups of cocoa and handed one to Harry. Only one sip was necessary for him to realise that this was definitely not Hermione’s cocoa! The sharp, warming sting of Firewhisky blended into the sweetness of the chocolate, and Harry could feel the effects immediately.
“Hermione told you where to find me,” Harry murmured, not meeting Neville’s eyes and instead staring intently at the letters of his mother’s name until they started to blur together.
“I asked,” Neville said.
Harry nodded, and the pair lapsed into companionable silence as the greyness darkened to black. An hour later, Harry startled as the now-cold cup was gently pried from his mittened hands. A warm hand replaced it, and Harry met Neville’s eyes for the first time that evening.
“It’s time to go, Harry.”
Instinctively looking back to his parents’ headstone, Harry was surprised to realise that he agreed. As they walked slowly towards the exit, Harry had the strangest feeling that his parents were waving behind him, waving him on, waving good-bye. A small smile played at his mouth.
“Merry Christmas, Mum and Dad,” he whispered into the dark. Neville squeezed his hand, and together they began the slow walk home.
Author: katmarajade
Written for: inspiredlife
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry Potter/Neville Longbottom
Rating: PG
Summary: Harry is always drawn back to Godric's Hollow on Christmas Eve. This year someone new joins him.
Word Count: 580
Author's Notes: I'm so glad that you returned for Year 5, bb! This one is just a little sad but also hopeful and sweet, so I hope you enjoy it!
Yet another blustery Christmas Eve, the sinking sun trying to paint the overcast sky with holiday cheer but the greyness winning out, and Harry Potter sat in an overgrown graveyard in Godric’s Hollow. The wind nipped at his cheeks and he wrapped his scarf more tightly around his neck, ducking his chin down into the wool.
Five years ago he’d spent his first Christmas Eve here with Hermione. They had been cold and hungry and desperately missing Ron, and eventually they had been attacked by an old woman who was being controlled by Voldemort’s pet snake and who also happened to have been quite dead. They’d nearly died and Harry had lost his wand, so ultimately it hadn’t been the best Christmas ever. (Not to mention the second one in three years that had been bollixed up by that same damn snake!)
Despite all of that, he still felt oddly drawn to this place every year on Christmas. He visited his parents’ graves throughout the year, but spending Christmas here was somehow more for him than for them, though he didn’t quite understand why. Hermione was the only one who knew where he snuck off to every year. Usually she slipped away from the madness of the Weasley family Christmas Eve celebration for a little while to bring him a bit of dinner or hot cocoa, but he knew that this year she wouldn’t be able to get away. This year she and Ron were expecting their first child at literally any moment, and Harry knew that between Ron’s fretting and Molly’s hovering, Hermione would not have a moment’s peace all evening.
Staring down at the grey, snow-speckled stone that bore his parents’ names, he let himself once again get lost in the what-could-have-beens. The darkness had started to deepen when he was startled out of his maudlin wool gathering by the sound of someone clearing his throat.
Harry looked up to see Neville standing beside him. So much for those war-forged, Auror-trained reflexes for which he was so well known. Without waiting for Harry to invite him, Neville sat down next to him, not even bothering to cast a warming or cushioning charm onto the ground first, for which Harry felt oddly touched. Silently opening a Thermos, Neville poured two steaming cups of cocoa and handed one to Harry. Only one sip was necessary for him to realise that this was definitely not Hermione’s cocoa! The sharp, warming sting of Firewhisky blended into the sweetness of the chocolate, and Harry could feel the effects immediately.
“Hermione told you where to find me,” Harry murmured, not meeting Neville’s eyes and instead staring intently at the letters of his mother’s name until they started to blur together.
“I asked,” Neville said.
Harry nodded, and the pair lapsed into companionable silence as the greyness darkened to black. An hour later, Harry startled as the now-cold cup was gently pried from his mittened hands. A warm hand replaced it, and Harry met Neville’s eyes for the first time that evening.
“It’s time to go, Harry.”
Instinctively looking back to his parents’ headstone, Harry was surprised to realise that he agreed. As they walked slowly towards the exit, Harry had the strangest feeling that his parents were waving behind him, waving him on, waving good-bye. A small smile played at his mouth.
“Merry Christmas, Mum and Dad,” he whispered into the dark. Neville squeezed his hand, and together they began the slow walk home.