A/N: Finally, finally I succeeded in writing drabbles. This is going to be a collection of 15 drabbles at most.

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01: My Awful Hair

It was 8 o' clock in the morning as five year old Colin Creevey glared angrily at his image in the mirror above the sink. A small boy with big, brown eyes and a floppy mop of mousy brown hair glared right back at him.

He was tired of all the teasing he got from his friends about his hair. So what if it looked like that of a field mouse, more grey than brown? It wasn't his fault. It was his dad's fault that he had gotten such an ugly shade of hair colour.

He actually wanted to punch Ben, Eric, Daniel and Rick right now.

I wish I could change it and have mum's hair colour instead of dad's, he thought sadly. He knew his mother was never going to allow it and that she would go off on a tangent about how young he was. Then she would tell him that he was God's creation and that all of God's creations were beautiful and perfect.

He sighed. Oh, how he wished he had his mother's red hair.

Suddenly something started happening— his hair started changing colour! He didn't know how, but it was happening. He stared, half horrified and half curious. The ghastly mousy brown colour was beginning to get replaced by red... except it was not the shade of red that he wanted.

It was crimson. Blimey!

Mum would kill him.

Worse, Dennis would remember it for ages.

He tried washing it but to no avail. The colour just refused to go away. In the end, he decided to wrap a towel around his head and step out after checking that the coast was clear. After that, he quickly rushed to his room and changed his clothes.

If anyone got suspicious, he would tell them that he had bathed. That was the best lie he could think of.

With bated breath he went down to the table to have breakfast. Dad had just returned after delivering milk and he was reading the newspaper, waiting for his omelette and bread. Little Dennis had already spread half of his omelette on half of the table.

That boy really ought to learn to eat properly sometime soon.

Mum's back was turned to him as he took his seat on the chair and prayed that no one would ask him about the towel.

"What's up with the towel, Colin?" Dennis asked.

The little critter had to ask, didn't he?

"I bathed," he replied halfheartedly.

"Liar!" his brother cried. "You never bathe in the morning!"

His nasty brother was too observant for a three year old. He had to give him that.

Before he could say anything in return, mum came to his rescue.

"Don't talk while eating, Dennis," she told him sternly. "Nice to see that you have taken a bath for once before having breakfast, Colin," she added as she served dad his breakfast. She quickly went back to her cooking.

He took in a deep breath. He was safe.

Well, not really. Before he knew what was happening, Dennis had gotten up and teared the towel away from his head. Now he was looking at him with wide eyes. Dad looked speechless as well. For a moment, no one said anything.

In the next moment, Mum had turned around with a plate in her hand...and she had dropped it.

"COLIN CREEVEY, WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR HAIR?"

Oh yeah, Mum was definitely going to kill him.

Worse, Dennis was going to remember it for ages.

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I hope you liked it!

This drabble was inspired by my sister, Luna who is always going on about how she hates her mousy brown hair.

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