This is a small- holiday story that I've been plotting for a couple of months now. It's only going to be about 5 Chapters long. (Possibly shorter.)
All chapters will be posted before Dec. 25th- please enjoy!

.Warm Companion.

On cold nights when even the servants couldn't be bothered to patrol the halls, Lucy Heartfilia spent her time by the Fireplace. With a warm, fleece blanket over her little shoulders and an open book under her nose, she barely noticed the biting chill in the mansion. The echoes that bounced down the walls sometimes made her scared, but all of that could be shoved away with the heat of the lit fire and the stories she quietly read.

Once upon a time, these were stories read by her Mother, but it had been a year since the kind woman had passed and Lucy's only comfort had vanished. During the day it was impossible to read, as Lucy was constantly being moved from one tutor to the next. Hour after hour she was taught and trained in all manner of things: etiquette, business, horseback riding, piano, geography, embroidery- so many things.

Not a single one for reading and writing. A lady didn't need to read fantastic tales or to write them, oh no! (She wasn't a lady, she was still a little girl of nine.) She didn't even get free time to play or go outside!

Letting out a sigh: Lucy sniffled, the cold getting to her nose despite the roaring flames in front of her. It almost made her hot, to be facing it in such a way, but the mansion rarely felt warm these days. Even without the snow falling outside, Lucy always felt cold. " - … Mother would have chased it away…" with a warm hug I'll never get…

A tight, embrace that held her close and kept her safe- closing her eyes, she could practically feel and smell Layla's perfume as if she were still there. It brought a knot into the little blonde's throat and another sniffle followed. The book set before her seemed lonely and forgotten, its pages being still for a few minutes as she fell prey to her own thoughts and memories.

The warmth was long gone from this place… even her father had lost his heat. Everything was just cold. As frozen as the icy wonderland outside the foyer windows.

" …. Why are you crying?"

Wet eyes blinked and Lucy froze in her place, allowing the book's pages to flip back to the beginning, effectively losing her place. Where had that voice come from? It sounded like a boy, young and curious- but there were no little boys who lived here. The closest neighbor to the estate wouldn't have sent their child to stay for the night either- so where…

Whipping her head back and forth, causing blonde tresses to slap across wet cheeks, Lucy let out a tiny shriek when the voice laughed, "The other way, look over here!"

Where? Eyes wide, she realized with a strange clarity, that the voice- miraculously, was coming directly in front of her.

Right from the fireplace.

"See me, now?" The voice asked, and for the longest of moments, little Lucy thought she was going to faint.

"T-the fire's talking to me!" She exclaimed! Shooting up faster than a rabbit, blanket slipping off her chilled shoulders. In her haste to back away, covered feet slipped on the hardwood and her attempt to stand was ruined by a sudden flop back to the floor with an echoing thud. "O-ow!"

Laughter followed once more, a tingling, almost nymph like laugh full of mischief and wonder, "Don't go falling over everything, I'm not THE FIRE! Look closer!" Oh, yes, because any small, defenseless girl is going to listen to a voice coming out of fire. Absolutely.

Not.

"W-wait, don't go-!" The voice called out, as Lucy struggled to stand and dash out of the room- the way the laughter switched to a near whimper, suffused in desperation, caused her to stop in her tracks, bottom lip trembling. "Please? I'm sorry I scared ya', I just- I just wanted someone to talk to!"

The words rang in the little blonde's head like a mirror. The floor was cold, tingling through her fingers and toes and up her limbs, but that voice… the way he sounded. As scared as she was, it spoke of a familiarity she hadn't expected. Loneliness. She knew that feeling. It was what lead her down to the room from the beginning.

Silence followed. No more pleas for her to stay or laughter, just a soft sniffle that matched the random popping of firewood. Whatever spoke to her wasn't lying. Waiting with bated breath for her decision instead. If it had truly meant her harm, wouldn't it have found some way to force her to stay? Could talking fire even do that?

So many questions. The curiosity of a small child was strong, and it gripped Lucy's empathetic heart like iron. Blinking back her own, frightened tears, she up-righted herself. With brows furrowed, she tried to look deeper into the flames and blinked.

"You- you're really not the fire… are you?" Wonderment filled her as the realization finally came through. Through the fire, to the very depths of what should have been the brick of the house- she saw the strangest thing.

Another room.

It wavered in and out, similar to how heat waves danced over fire. For a few seconds, she wasn't sure it was there at all only for it to come back into focus. Wooden floors that looked slightly stained and old, and an even larger room, devoid of decorations or warm furniture could be seen. Crawling on hands and knees, eyes squinting from the heat of the flames, Little Lucy tried to get a better look, but the more she tried, the harder to see past the brick of her wall it became.

Except for the boy. For that was clearly who was speaking to her, now that she looked harder. Big, wide eyes, tinted green from firelight, darker in color where shades danced. She could hardly tell, but his hair was wild and looked pinkish. (From the heat, perhaps?) His face was rounded, similar to her own age and with soot covering his nose and cheeks.

"Yeah, I'm real as can be!" He chirped, face widening into a huge, relieved grin. It made her chest hurt all over again. "Are… are you real?"

"Of course I am!" What? After all that, he wasn't even sure she existed? How rude! - but the relief he sported grew to another burst of laughter and he practically danced in his seat. She briefly realized that he was dressed in the thinnest of clothes, full of holes. Much different than her own.

"Just makin' sure! I can't see you real well!" Still squinting to look at him, she noticed him doing much the same- nose scrunching up before a crackle of flames shot up between them. It really was difficult to talk to someone while crouching down at the entrance to a fireplace.

Then again, normal people didn't talk to others through them did they? "How do I know I'm not dreaming?" Lucy asked out loud, lifting a hand to pinch herself. "- ow! Th.. that really hurt!" Throbbing flesh on her right cheek made her eyes water all over again and she pouted.

"You really ARE strange. Is that just a girl thing? Why would you go off and pinch yerself like that?" He talked funny, she decided. As if he didn't have enough time to say all he wanted so the words sometimes jumbled together in his haste to say them all. Her pout only grew and she crossed her arms, nose tilting into the air.

"If it didn't hurt then I'd know I was dreaming!" She explained, frowning. "I'm not strange. You're the strange one! You don't even have pajamas on!"

"…. I don't have pajamas."

Just like that, her frown deepened, joined with a glint of guilt as she blinked back towards the flames. "You… You don't? But why wouldn't your Moma or Papa get you some?"

Perhaps, she really was strange, to talk to a boy through a fireplace so openly, but it was mystifying and amazing all at the same time. She couldn't bring herself to see anything wrong with it, and she really wanted to know. The boy, seeming to think the same thing, crossed his legs and matched her frown, a sudden sadness seeping into his lit-up eyes.

"I don't have those. I'm a- my brother calls it an orf… orphan, yeah We were just moved here to maybe get adopted, but I dunno…" He didn't sound as if he had any faith in this happening but Lucy's eyes were swimming with so many tears, she could hardly tell if he looked as sad as she felt or not. "-Hey it's okay! You don't have to cry! I mean, well, I can't stop ya', but it looks like you have parents, so be happy about that!"

"I have a Papa." She answered, sniffling despite herself. "- but he doesn't even hug me anymore."

"…. do you want a hug?"

It was such a sudden, surreal question, that it had little Lucy blinking: stunned. "-but, you're there- and I'm here- and why would I let a boy I just met hug me?!"

"That's not what I asked!" He said, his own arms crossing over his body. "You're a little strange, but I want to be your friend. Do you want a hug or not?!"

Such a silly question. They couldn't hug each other through the fire, so why was he even asking? Her stubbornness made her silent, tapping her finger on the floor where she sat as a low, confused hum escaped her. She DID want a hug. A big, warm one, that was so tight she'd be squeezed, but there was no way she could get it.

"Well?" He asked impatiently.

Lucy sniffed. "Yes. Happy?"

"Okay- " His tone shifted, sounded almost serious. As serious as a little boy could sound. He leaned closer to his side of the flames and pointed to her. "Close your eyes for me, 'kay?"

She almost argued again, but with a sad nod, she slowly did as he asked- eyes slowly sliding shut so that only the sounds of the crackling wood, the cold wind from the windows, could be heard. Lucy waited in the darkness of her her closed lids, waiting for further instruction, but his voice never came. A shuffling sound from the other side echoed lightly, but her apprehension grew. Was he no longer there? Had this really all had been a dream?

Just when she was about to give up and snap her eyes open once more, a gust of heat flowed over her. It danced along her skin and the fleece of her pajamas making them warmer. A shiver ran down her spine, but a tiny, wistful smile covered her face. In a way, despite there being no arms around her- the heat almost felt like a hug. When another wave ran over her, Lucy opened her eyes.

The boy was still there, sweating, panting a little- but an old rusted fireplace bellows was under his hands, pushing firmly on the handle to cause gusts of heated air to hit the flames. It fanned the heat up the chimney, but sent a blast of it her way as well. "Sorry, it's the best I can do." He said after pushing onto the bellows once more, grunting from the force it took his small arms to handle.

"Does that help?"

Lucy felt a new wave of tears, but they weren't from sadness. Pushing her forgotten book aside until it slid into the blanket she left behind, her arms encircled her small body in a small embrace- mimicking the warmth she desperately craved. Her house was cold. So very cold. And it had been for quite some time. "It does. Thank you."

Now, it was warm, and she had a mysterious little boy to thank for it. "… if we're going to be friends, can I know your name?"

Tired relief crossed his face and relaxed against the bellows, panting softly as another grin spread across his dusty face.

"I'm Natsu, what's yours?"

Little Lucy felt she had no reason to deny him and answered through a wide smile of her own.

Is this what having a friend is like?

If you'd like to see these updates when they first come out, find me on tumblr at RougeScribe!