![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Drabble #27
I think I was writing a bit too close to home here - made myself cry. If it comes across as a bit maudlin, that's probably why.
No Matter What
----
"I'll get us someting to eat, Neville dear." Gran stood up and patted his shoulder. "I'll be right back."
Neville nodded vaguely and watched the curtain swing back into place. Then he leaned forward and began speaking hurriedly to his parents' empty faces.
"Mum, Dad, I think I'm a Squib."
Dad was staring blankly at the ceiling; Mum was humming and waving her hand in circles. Neville pretended they had responded. "It's awful. No magic at all. Uncle Algie's tried everything, but I'm hopeless."
"Mmm. Mmm!" Mum said emphatically.
"I'm seven and a half!" he exclaimed in despair. "Nobody goes that long without showing magic."
Dad craned his neck, his eyes still fixed upward, as if he saw something nobody else did. Neville told himself he was thinking how to solve his son's problem.
"I just know what will happen," Neville said miserably. "It'll be the summer I turn eleven, and I'll be waiting for my letter from Hogwarts - and it will never come!"
"Aah!" Mum replied, blinking rapidly.
Neville looked at her a long time. The silence was so heavy. "I was supposed to be great," he said at last in a low voice. "Like you."
Mum started waving her hand again.
It's all right, dear, she was saying. It'll come, just you wait. You'll be brilliant.
Dad wasn't really just staring at nothing; he was chiming in. We love you no matter what. Don't forget that.
Neville was staring at the ground when Gran came back in. "Here you are," she said gently, offering him a biscuit.
"Thanks," he murmured.
"You really ought to talk to them," Gran urged him. "I know it's hard that they won't answer back, but you'll feel better to talk."
Neville just shrugged and took a bite of his biscuit.
-------
No Matter What
----
"I'll get us someting to eat, Neville dear." Gran stood up and patted his shoulder. "I'll be right back."
Neville nodded vaguely and watched the curtain swing back into place. Then he leaned forward and began speaking hurriedly to his parents' empty faces.
"Mum, Dad, I think I'm a Squib."
Dad was staring blankly at the ceiling; Mum was humming and waving her hand in circles. Neville pretended they had responded. "It's awful. No magic at all. Uncle Algie's tried everything, but I'm hopeless."
"Mmm. Mmm!" Mum said emphatically.
"I'm seven and a half!" he exclaimed in despair. "Nobody goes that long without showing magic."
Dad craned his neck, his eyes still fixed upward, as if he saw something nobody else did. Neville told himself he was thinking how to solve his son's problem.
"I just know what will happen," Neville said miserably. "It'll be the summer I turn eleven, and I'll be waiting for my letter from Hogwarts - and it will never come!"
"Aah!" Mum replied, blinking rapidly.
Neville looked at her a long time. The silence was so heavy. "I was supposed to be great," he said at last in a low voice. "Like you."
Mum started waving her hand again.
It's all right, dear, she was saying. It'll come, just you wait. You'll be brilliant.
Dad wasn't really just staring at nothing; he was chiming in. We love you no matter what. Don't forget that.
Neville was staring at the ground when Gran came back in. "Here you are," she said gently, offering him a biscuit.
"Thanks," he murmured.
"You really ought to talk to them," Gran urged him. "I know it's hard that they won't answer back, but you'll feel better to talk."
Neville just shrugged and took a bite of his biscuit.
-------