A/N: Just a little story that came to me while I was studying for an exam. I picture Fred being about five or six-years-old in this. Hope you enjoy (and maybe give me a review? They really keep me motivated to write more!)

Of course, I don't own a single thing from Harry Potter.

Fred doesn't understand why his father is sad on his birthday.

To Fred, birthdays are the best thing in the world, even better than Christmas. There is cake, presents, everyone goes around saying how much you've grown and how proud they are of you and… did he already mention cake? Every time on his birthday, Fred would wake up at the crack of dawn, run to his parents' bedroom and hop up on their bed, determined to wake them up. One time he had ended up falling off the mattress to the floor but he just bounced back up without caring if he had gotten hurt. In the end, it had the desirable result; his parents were up and he got to open his presents early. All in all, birthdays are amazing, and nobody should feel bad on day like that. But, apparently, his father has forgotten that.

Fred is determined to fix it this time. He has been preparing for this day for a while now, getting his mum to take him out until he found just the right present, picking the perfect card to go with it. He is sure he can make his dad's birthday a happy occasion, if he tries hard enough.

But today, it has all gone wrong. First Fred forgot to ask his mother to wake him up early, so by the time he woke up his dad was already awake and he had missed the opportunity to surprise him. When he didn't see him eating breakfast in the kitchen like every morning, he felt his excitement rise again, thinking his dad was still asleep and he had time after all. But his mum said his dad was awake, he just was still in his bedroom.

''And no, you can't go in,'' she says, before Fred even opens his mouth. ''Now sit down and eat your cereal.''

''But Mum,'' Fred whines, even though he knows it annoys his mother, ''I have to go. I have to give dad his present.''

''You'll give it to him later,'' she says without turning back from the oven.

''No!'' he insists, his voice getting louder, ''It has to be now. You don't get it-''

''Fred!'' Angelina cuts him off, her voice rising as well. ''I said, later. Now will you please eat your breakfast?''

Without another word, Fred gets up and stomps to his bedroom, making sure to slam the door shut. Wrong, this is all wrong. This isn't how the day was supposed to go.

Fred spends several minutes walking around the room, occasionally grabbing pillows from his bed and throwing them against the wall. His mother comes knocking at the door, but he doesn't open it, doesn't even talk to her. After a while she gives up and announces to the door that she's going out shopping and will be back soon. Fred doesn't bother responding.

He hears her footsteps as she walks away and after a couple of minutes the front door opens and closes. Fred resumes his throwing of the pillows until he freezes mid-action, a smile forming on his lips. Now's his chance!

Not wanting to waste any time, he lets the pillow fall down on the floor as he dashes to his desk, picks up the bag containing his father's present and is out of the room in seconds. In front of his father's door he pauses, but ultimately decides not to knock in case dad doesn't let him enter. If he's already in, he can't throw him out, right?

Fred opens the door slowly to reveal a mostly shadowed room, the curtains partially closed. His father is seated at the side of the large bed and doesn't seem to notice Fred at first.

''Dad?'' Fred says. George starts.

''Hey mate,'' he says in a low voice as he turns around, hastily wiping his eyes. Was he crying?

''What're you doing here?''

''I… I just wanted…'' Fred trails off, suddenly uncertain. He had been so determined to see his father, but now he feels his resolve wavering. What if his dad really wanted to be left alone? And if his mum comes back, she'll certainly be mad and what will he do then? Maybe this was a bad idea.

''Yes?'' George gently prods. His eyes fall to the package Fred clutches in his hands. ''Is that for me?''

Wordlessly, Fred nods.

''Let's see it, then. Come here,'' his father says, patting the mattress next to him.

Hesitantly, Fred walks towards his dad, climbing onto the mattress once he reaches the bed. It seems unusually difficult to lift the bag and hand it to his father.

George takes the bag but doesn't open it. Instead his directs his gaze to his son, lifting his face until he fully faces him. ''Are you okay, Freddie?''

Another nod.

''Fred?'' George insists. ''Will you tell me what's wrong?''

Sometimes, Fred swears, it's like his father can read his mind. And, suddenly, he feels he can't stay silent any longer, the words bursting out of him like a great, big wave.

''It's just, you always look so sad on your birthday and I wanted to make you happy and find the perfect present, but then I overslept and Mum wouldn't let me come in and see you, but I wanted to give you your present so you'd be happy so I yelled at her and Mum got mad and then she left, so I came here, but you haven't opened it and maybe it's awful and I just wanted you to be happy and…''

As his son keeps talking, George finds himself grinning suddenly, in spite of the day, in spite of the memories. Or maybe, because of them. After all, no matter what, Fred Weasley could always make him smile.