Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine! I do not own/share any rights with J.K. Rowling.
Author's note: So this is a series of HP snapshots, not drabbles. If you are wondering, the difference between the two is that snapshots are moments captured, and drabbles are little short works of fiction exactly one hundred words in length, not including the title. Well, I think I have read stuff labeled "drabbles" but they weren't a hundred words in length. I just wanna go safe here...anyways, the grammar in the following dialogue below is not perfect because these are four year old twins speaking here. Thus, when you review (and I encourage you to do so) this collection of snapshots, please don't point out the grammar/spelling issues.
The afternoon sun lazily dripped through the window, like melted butter, into Fred and George's room. The four year old twins lay in their bed, yawning.
"Why do we get sent to our room so much?" Fred wondered. "I can't...help it...no matter how much I try." Fred tried to stifle his tears. No. He couldn't let them fall, not even in front of George. This broke the rules of being a big boy. Big boys did not shed tears of sadness, and Fred and George were officially deemed big boys by Mummy and Daddy.
"We didn't get sent to our room 'cause we got in trouble," George reminded Fred. "We gotta take our naps," George added brightly. He and Fred loved naps.
"But Mummy sounded mad at us when she said that we hadta take our naps. What did we do?" Fred asked.
"I noticed that Mummy might not have been really mad at us. She musta been tired. Taking care of baby Ginny and Ron and runnin' all over the Burrow," George pointed out. "People sound mad and look mad sometimes, but they're not mad at us, y'know, Fred?" George was the quieter and more observant of the two.
"We wasn't doin' nothing, Mummy got no right to get her being tired all on us," Fred objected.
"It's not her fault, Freddie. Tell ya what. Today's been rough on us, or we got up on the wrong side of the bed-"
"How do you get up on the wrong side of the bed?"
"It's this saying I picked up somewhere. I think it was from Charlie or Bill. I think it means today isn't one of our best days. So yes, we got up on the wrong side of the bed-I think everybody did. And we're sleepy," George explained. "Maybe we're sleepy is all."
The tears were now trickling down Fred's rosy cheeks, dozens of them. Fred's button nose, lips, and cheeks became red. Fred usually cried whenever he had a bad day.
"I'm not crying, I'm just allergic to the dust in the room-"
"There is no dust in our room. If you was allergic to the dust, I'd be too," George pointed out. "'Sokay, Freddie, I'm here." A pair of dry lips pressed against Fred's cheek, kissing a tear skating down a crooked path of freckles. Arms of eternal peace wrapped around Fred in such a way that George was spooning Fred, and let Fred wipe his nose on George's sleeve.
"Thanks, Georgie."
"Y'welcome, Freddie."