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SW-User
You have to love me before this.
It's long, I know.
|| ¿Qué escribes?
“Sirius?”
“Yeah?”
“Is Santa real?”
Sirius nearly joked on his bowl of porridge. His brother was intently staring at him. Sirius gazed at the kitchen floorboards as he said, “’Course he’s real!”
“How do you know?”
“How do I know what?”
“How do you know that he’s real?”
Sirius was quiet for a moment as he tried to think of an answer.
“How do you know that he’s not?” Sirius finally asked.
Regulus couldn’t argue with that. Nevertheless, the six-year-old was still determined to try. He pursed his lips as he thought of just what to say.
“Bellatrix says he’s fake,” Regulus pointed out.
“Bellatrix is a liar,” Sirius declared, “Do you remember that time she put a twig in your hair and told you that it was a snake?”
Regulus shuddered at the thought.
Still, he said, “Mother and Father say that he’s fake.”
“And look how miserable they are,” Sirius cried, “Do you want to be miserable like them? Do you know why they’re so miserable?”
“Because they stopped believing in Santa?”
“Because they stopped believing in Santa!” Sirius exclaimed, “And he stopped bringing them presents! Do you want him to stop bringing you presents?”
Regulus anxiously shook his head.
“Then stop saying that he’s fake!”
Regulus went from shaking his head to bobbing it.
“Santa’s real, Reg,” Sirius gently said, “You just have to believe.”
Regulus still looked uncertain.
“I’ll prove it,” Sirius declared.
“How?”
Sirius leapt up and ran over to the pantry. He pulled out the flour sack before triumphantly saying, “Tonight’s Christmas Eve. We’ll stay up and sprinkle flour on the floor in front of fireplace in the drawing room. Then we’ll be able to see his footprints.”
The brothers did just that. They waited until Orion and Walburga left for a social gathering. Against Kreacher’s angry grunts and grumbles, they carried the flour sack up to the drawing room.
“Just a sprinkle,” Kreacher finally said.
Sirius nodded before tipping the entire flour bag. The entire contents of the bag dumped out onto the floor. Kreacher let out a loud howl.
“Sorry, Kreacher,” Regulus apologized.
“I’m not,” Sirius gleefully said.
He stomped on the flour until it was embedded into the antique rug. The house-elf looked ready to have a stroke.
At Regulus’ instruction, Sirius used his arms to brush away his footprints, lest they confuse them with Santa. At long last, their trap was set!
“Brilliant,” Sirius cried, “Now, go to bed.”
“What?”
“Go to bed,” Sirius repeated.
"But why?”
“Because he sees you when you’re sleeping,” Sirius pointed out, “He knows when you’re awake. He knows when you’re not in bed so go to bed for goodness sake.”
"But I’m not tired!”
Three minute and twenty-seven seconds later, Regulus’ head was slumped on Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius giggled before ordering Kreacher to carry his brother upstairs. The house-elf did just that. He gently set the boy onto the bed before tucking him in and wishing him pleasant dreams.
A quarter of an hour later, Sirius burst into the bedroom and screamed for Regulus to wake up. His eyes flew open and he wildly punched and kicked.
“Get up, get up!” Sirius squealed, “Santa was here!”
Regulus was out of bed in an instant. He raced through the house with Sirius at his heels. The brothers burst into the drawing room and Regulus let out a gasp of delight. There were several footprints throughout the snow.
Sirius grinned down at him.
Regulus’ face fell and he mumbled, “They’re your footprints.”
“They are not,” Sirius argued, “Look.”
He stepped into one of the footprints; his foot was considerably smaller.
Regulus’ face lit up. It wasn’t long before he was incoherently stammering.
Sirius laughed and cried, “I told you that he was real. And look!”
Sirius pointed to the wrapped present that was on the table. Regulus glanced at the tag before eagerly ripping away the paper. It was a box of chocolate frogs - exactly what he had asked for.
“Thanks, Santa,” Regulus whispered.
Sirius’ smile stretched.
Kreacher came up next to him and whispered, “That was a very nice thing you did, Young Master Black.”
“Thanks, Kreacher.”
“You’re welcome, Young Master Black.”
“Sorry about the floor.”
“Apology accepted, Young Master Black.”
“Clean the floor up, Kreacher.”
“Yes, Young Master Black.”
“And clean Father’s shoes, while you’re at it.”
“Of course, Young Master Black.”
“Happy Christmas, Kreacher.”
“Happy Christmas, Young Master Black.”
It's long, I know.
|| ¿Qué escribes?
“Sirius?”
“Yeah?”
“Is Santa real?”
Sirius nearly joked on his bowl of porridge. His brother was intently staring at him. Sirius gazed at the kitchen floorboards as he said, “’Course he’s real!”
“How do you know?”
“How do I know what?”
“How do you know that he’s real?”
Sirius was quiet for a moment as he tried to think of an answer.
“How do you know that he’s not?” Sirius finally asked.
Regulus couldn’t argue with that. Nevertheless, the six-year-old was still determined to try. He pursed his lips as he thought of just what to say.
“Bellatrix says he’s fake,” Regulus pointed out.
“Bellatrix is a liar,” Sirius declared, “Do you remember that time she put a twig in your hair and told you that it was a snake?”
Regulus shuddered at the thought.
Still, he said, “Mother and Father say that he’s fake.”
“And look how miserable they are,” Sirius cried, “Do you want to be miserable like them? Do you know why they’re so miserable?”
“Because they stopped believing in Santa?”
“Because they stopped believing in Santa!” Sirius exclaimed, “And he stopped bringing them presents! Do you want him to stop bringing you presents?”
Regulus anxiously shook his head.
“Then stop saying that he’s fake!”
Regulus went from shaking his head to bobbing it.
“Santa’s real, Reg,” Sirius gently said, “You just have to believe.”
Regulus still looked uncertain.
“I’ll prove it,” Sirius declared.
“How?”
Sirius leapt up and ran over to the pantry. He pulled out the flour sack before triumphantly saying, “Tonight’s Christmas Eve. We’ll stay up and sprinkle flour on the floor in front of fireplace in the drawing room. Then we’ll be able to see his footprints.”
The brothers did just that. They waited until Orion and Walburga left for a social gathering. Against Kreacher’s angry grunts and grumbles, they carried the flour sack up to the drawing room.
“Just a sprinkle,” Kreacher finally said.
Sirius nodded before tipping the entire flour bag. The entire contents of the bag dumped out onto the floor. Kreacher let out a loud howl.
“Sorry, Kreacher,” Regulus apologized.
“I’m not,” Sirius gleefully said.
He stomped on the flour until it was embedded into the antique rug. The house-elf looked ready to have a stroke.
At Regulus’ instruction, Sirius used his arms to brush away his footprints, lest they confuse them with Santa. At long last, their trap was set!
“Brilliant,” Sirius cried, “Now, go to bed.”
“What?”
“Go to bed,” Sirius repeated.
"But why?”
“Because he sees you when you’re sleeping,” Sirius pointed out, “He knows when you’re awake. He knows when you’re not in bed so go to bed for goodness sake.”
"But I’m not tired!”
Three minute and twenty-seven seconds later, Regulus’ head was slumped on Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius giggled before ordering Kreacher to carry his brother upstairs. The house-elf did just that. He gently set the boy onto the bed before tucking him in and wishing him pleasant dreams.
A quarter of an hour later, Sirius burst into the bedroom and screamed for Regulus to wake up. His eyes flew open and he wildly punched and kicked.
“Get up, get up!” Sirius squealed, “Santa was here!”
Regulus was out of bed in an instant. He raced through the house with Sirius at his heels. The brothers burst into the drawing room and Regulus let out a gasp of delight. There were several footprints throughout the snow.
Sirius grinned down at him.
Regulus’ face fell and he mumbled, “They’re your footprints.”
“They are not,” Sirius argued, “Look.”
He stepped into one of the footprints; his foot was considerably smaller.
Regulus’ face lit up. It wasn’t long before he was incoherently stammering.
Sirius laughed and cried, “I told you that he was real. And look!”
Sirius pointed to the wrapped present that was on the table. Regulus glanced at the tag before eagerly ripping away the paper. It was a box of chocolate frogs - exactly what he had asked for.
“Thanks, Santa,” Regulus whispered.
Sirius’ smile stretched.
Kreacher came up next to him and whispered, “That was a very nice thing you did, Young Master Black.”
“Thanks, Kreacher.”
“You’re welcome, Young Master Black.”
“Sorry about the floor.”
“Apology accepted, Young Master Black.”
“Clean the floor up, Kreacher.”
“Yes, Young Master Black.”
“And clean Father’s shoes, while you’re at it.”
“Of course, Young Master Black.”
“Happy Christmas, Kreacher.”
“Happy Christmas, Young Master Black.”