Disclaimer: Belongs to JK Rowling
Only At Christmas
It was Christmas Eve, and Malfoy Manor was quiet. So very quiet, not a noise to be heard anywhere. All was silent, as the house slept, awaiting the next day with all the craziness that would accompany it. All except one, who ran as quickly as his sock-covered feet would carry his little legs. He couldn't sleep. He was too excited. Tomorrow was his favourite day of them all next to his birthday, with the presents and cake. Tomorrow was extra special, lots of presents.
He had lain in his bed pretending to be asleep till he heard the big clock in the hall chime a whole lot of times. That meant it was really late. Time for Santa to come. He didn't want to talk to Santa, he was just going to peek from behind the plant, that was right up the top of the stairs. You couldn't see anything from down near the tree, he had hidden his toy dragon - it was nearly as big as him behind the plant earlier and had stood right next to the Christmas tree for ages, but he didn't see his dragon move once. He had told it to move around as much as it wanted, but to stay behind the pot. So he knew it would be a good hiding spot. There was no way Santa would be able to see him. He just had to stay extra quiet.
And he had. He sat there for ages and ages, not making a single noise, nearly falling asleep until suddenly, he heard noises downstairs. Creeping close to the railing, he saw Santa come in from the kitchen not from out of the fireplace like he was supposed to, but it had had a fire in it for nearly the whole night, so it was probably too hot. Santa had a big red bag with lots of presents in there. He watched, and he didn't make a sound as he Santa put all the presents underneath their really big tree. After placing the last present under the tree, he took a cookie off the plate, and ate half of it, and then drank all the milk.
Isaiah was thinking that he would go soon, when his mum walked in from the same way that Santa had come. Santa sat down in the armchair next to the fireplace, scratching his beard a little, watching Mum. He remembered Uncle Ron telling him that his beard was really itchy, which was why he'd cut it off. Santa's was probably the same. Maybe Mum was telling Santa if he and Ada had been good or not this year, but she didn't have to. Santa knows everything, he would know that he had been good - maybe not as good as Ada, but he was little. She was a lot smarter than he was too.
He yawned then, a big one.
Maybe it's time to go to bed, he thought, rubbing his eyes.
He had to get up early tomorrow and open all his presents. But he was glad he had come down to see this, Alex had told him Santa wasn't real, that his daddy told him so. Now he could tell Alex that he had seen Santa himself and he was real.
"Goodnight Santa," he whispered, as he got up from his hiding spot. Taking one last look at him, as it would be a long time till he saw him again, his mouth fell open, and he forgot to close it. Mummy, - his mum - was sitting on Santa's lap! She was kissing him! What about Daddy? This was bad, very bad. Now he was running as quickly as he could down the hall, because he was only little. He didn't know what to do, but Ada would. She was the smartest girl he knew. Daddy said she was going to be just like her mum. He wanted to be like his dad, his dad flew on brooms. Mummy didn't.
He pushed her door closed behind him, and quickly ran over to her bed, climbing up next to her. He gently shook her but, she didn't wake up, so he had to do something she hated. He pinched her arm as hard as he could.
"Oww!" She shrieked, nearly knocking him off the bed as she sat up. "Isaiah, what are you doing here? You should be in your bed, Santa will be here soon."
"He already is," he said. "He's downstairs. I saw him."
"You saw him?"
"Yes, he had a suit and everything." He grabbed her hand. "Something very bad's happened, Ada."
"What did you do?"
"Nothing! It was Mummy, she came and," he said, but he couldn't finish. It was too awful.
He thought it would be easier if he whispered it. "She kissed him. Mummy kissed Santa."
"It's not funny, Mummy is very naughty. Daddy won't be happy."
"Don't worry Issy," she said, lying back down, "Daddy will be fine, really."
"He won't be angry?"
"Not at all." She pulled the blanket up. "Come lie down."
Climbing in next to her, "Why won't Daddy won't be angry? Daddy doesn't like it when Uncle Ron touches Mummy just a little, why can she kiss Santa?"
"It's because it's Santa," she said, "Mummies are allowed to kiss Santa, but only at Christmas time."
"That sounds silly."
"That's the rule. Let's sleep now, you have presents to open in the morning.
He smiled at her. "There are lots of them," he murmured, as he snuggled up to her. He liked sleeping in her bed. It was always nice and warm. "Goodnight."
"Night," she whispered
Lots of presents tomorrow, but none for Mummy he decided.
She was naughty.
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