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House: Any Blood: Muggle-born
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Bill sat on the worn out sofa of his childhood home, smirking at you in amusement as he watched you explain the concept of Santa Claus to his father. The conversation had been going on for over an hour now as you taught him all about the lore and logistics. Arthur listened attentively, eyes wide at the revelations and Bill couldn't help but laugh. "So, he's a wizard?" Arthur asked. "No... well, maybe? He's supposed to be more like an elf." "A House Elf? Why would his master let him deliver gifts to strangers?" You laughed lightly. "No, not a House Elf. And he isn't real, remember?" "Right," Arthur replied, though his eyebrows still knit together in confusion. "How do the children get their presents then?" "The same way your family gets presents." "What about the reindeer? How do they fly?" "They don't. It's a myth." "A myth," Arthur said, absolutely mystified. "Why do muggles lie to their children then?" You sat for a moment, pondering the question. "Maybe so their children can experience a little bit of magic in their lives." Arthur seemed content with this explanation for a few seconds before Bill saw the familiar curiosity creeping back onto his face, and Bill decided it was time to save you from his father. Arthur had just opened his mouth to ask another question when Bill stood up and offered you his hand. "Alright, love. Would you like to help me hand out presents?" "I would love to," you replied, sighing in relief. When you were out of earshot, Bill leaned down to kiss you on the cheek. "Thank you for that," he said, nodding his head back towards his father.
Fred Weasley
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