~ When Regulus was a little boy his mother told him off for talking about Father Christmas. She said it was a foolish muggle story and she wouldn't have it in her house. But that Christmas Regulus sneaked out of his and Sirius' room and sat waiting in front of the tree all night, straining his ears for sounds of reindeer.
He didn't hear anything.
But even though the Black's weren't visited by any kind, present-bearing men that night, Regulus had never before felt as excited or as hopeful or as childlike as those hours he spent thinking that maybe - just maybe - it could be true. So every year after that he would sit by a Christmas tree and try to remember that feeling. And up until this year, it's been something completely private.

But this year he has Remus and he wants him to be able to share that feeling. So he waits for him to fall asleep then slips out of bed and tucks the blanket around Remus before going outside to get a branch from a tree. The sap and the snow and the darkness make it hard work but he eventually manages. Back inside again he does his best to charm it to stay straight and to keep some candles floating around it - it's not the best tree but it produces the same cozy glow he was hoping to achieve. As a final touch he reaches under the bed and produces a present with a tag reading Remus on it and places it under the tree. ~

<small>Remus.


Remus. Wake up.

~ Awake Remus is alone. The hours spent in Sirius' flat are silent but at least they're warm. Granted, it takes a lot to be colder than Russia but Sirius could never stand the cold so his place of residence is filled with sleepy heat. Remus, unused to being so warm, has curled up on the couch to rest but it's not long before the warmth fades, replaced by a stiff, frozen breeze and a warm hand holding his. And Regulus, wearing a long scarf he never really owned, whispers in his ear: Are you sure the ice is thick enough? ~