Neville Longbottom opened up the fingers of a scratched hand. "Here, Dad," he mumbled, closing Frank Longbottom's hand on a formal looking envelope. The man on the bed stared at him blankly. "I have to go now," Neville whispered, worry creasing on his forehead. He had lost the boyish roundness of childhood and was on his way to becoming a man. He left after bidding a quick farewell to the other occupant in the room.
Curious, Frank shook the envelope, wondering what it was. He messily ripped it open, dropping the tattered envelope to the floor. What once was a neatly folded piece of parchment, lay a crumpled letter.
Dear Dad,
Hey Dad, it's me, Neville. Neville Longbottom, your son. You probably don't remember me. You probably don't even know that you have a son. Sometimes I find myself flipping through Gran's photo albums and staring at the pictures of the three of us before… before You-Know-Who did this to you. Mum and you looked so happy. And now…
I'm sorry, Dad. I'm so sorry. I'm trying, really. But I'm not like you. I'm no good at Transfiguration and Potions and all the subjects you need to be an Auror. I can't help that I sort of squeak out the spells. I'm not brave. I'm not like you or Mum. I wish I were like you. I mean, how's Herbology going to rid the world of evil? I can't even do anything to help Harry Potter in his hunt for You-Know-Who . Have I ever told you about Harry? He's brilliant, Dad. He's brilliant just like you. He should have been your son. He's brave and noble and everything that I'm not.
I kind of found a girl, Dad. I haven't asked her out formally, but she's really, really nice. Her name's Luna Lovegood. She's not your classic beauty, but she's beautiful to me in every way. She… she speaks her mind and she's not afraid of what others think of her. I wish I could be like that. I wonder, did you feel butterflies whenever you saw Mum? Any incoherence? Did you feel elated and happy, but at the same time sad? I'm scared that she'll leave suddenly, like Sirius Black and…and Dumbledore. I mean, you grew up with You-Know-Who coming to power. Were you scared that Mum would be whisked away from you? Oh, what am I saying…
Like I said, Dumbledore's dead. Snape killed him. Severus Snape. Do you remember him, Dad? He's this bullying toe-rag of a Potions professor who delights in failing me. Dumbledore, he just… died. I'm not quite sure how; Harry won't tell me. Well, he did say that Snape did it. But the point is, is that Dumbledore's dead. The only wizard You-Know-Who was scared of, is dead.
I know that you'll probably toss this away, but please, Dad, if you ever finish this letter, just know that I've always loved you. I don't care if you've been lying in a bed for most of my life. I love you and admire you. It hurts to know you'll never know that. It pains me each time I visit. Your eyes are so lifeless, haunting. I promise, I swear, by my life, that I'll help the Order of the Phoenix in anyway. I mean it. I don't care if it means scrubbing toilets, I promise to do every little thing I can to help rid the world of You-Kno-Voldemort. I don't want to do it for the fame and glory; I've seen Harry grow under the watchful eye of the entire Wizarding world. I want to do this for you and Mum. I want to make you proud, Dad. I want to be the son Gran says you wanted.
Love always,
Neville
P.S. I'm sorry I broke your wand. I nearly cried when I did. I guess I'm too clumsy for battle, huh, Dad?
The next day, Neville dropped by again for a longer visit. He moved a chair in between his mum and dad. He sat there, watching them sleep and occasionally coaxing them to calm down when they had an outburst. He noticed mutilated scraps of parchment on the bedside table. There were at least twenty lacerated pieces. He took out his wand and, after awhile, managed to vanish them.
Three hours later, he decided it was time to go. He pocketed another piece of candy wrapping paper from his mother. He made a quick sweep of the room with his eyes. He caught sight of an overlooked shred of parchment that he had missed while vanishing. He bent down to pick it up.
The words, barely readable through the chewed remains, Love Always, Neville stared up at him. His breath hitched.
He quietly slipped it in his breast pocket, fighting tears all the way home.
there.. a bit of neville drabble to sorta kinda evoke some emotion or awake some writing in me.