Times were untroubled when they were little. No stupid family disagreements (Percy hadn't achieved this degree of brainlessness back then), no sudden disappearances or deaths...
No threat to their family.
If the false sense of security hadn't been shaken before, it has been now, after their dad had been attacked by Voldemort's snake. It had made the threat very much real to them.
But they hide it.
People need a laugh these days.
Hiding behind a mask. Humour serves the purpose of dissolving the sense of utter fear and uncertainty.
The future scares them.
So they do the one thing that makes sense to them: retreating into a fort of blankets, and living there, in the present. The familiar spill of silky red, the freckles that darken as they practice a little Quidditch in the sunlit skies, the warm brown that gaze with old, intimate friendship; the little comforts keep them happy for now.
Such little joys of life is what they feel when their friends walk in and they fall into a familiar, light-hearted chatter. It doesn't feel that they are no longer in school. When they talk, they pick up right from where they had left.
Lee is recovering from a bout of laughter. "I actually wanted you two to try the stinksap trap on her," he says about Umbridge. "Just the whizbangs had scared the crap out of her. Stinksap would have almost killed her with shock."
George shrugs. "Centaurs did a pretty good job of it for us anyway."
"If it wasn't for Dumbledore they'd have pretty much ripped her to shreds." Fred remarks.
"I heard she spent some time in the St. Mungos psychiatric ward." says Angelina. "Apparently she was shuddering at anything related to hoofs." Lee has been dating Angelina since last year.
"She shouldn't have been reinstated, that evil hag. Not that the rest of the lot are virtuous souls." says George.
"At least the Ministry's got its wits back." says Lee.
Fred's face suddenly scrunches into a peeved expression when his eyes seem to land on something. "Hey! Get off that stool! He's about to- oh for pete's sake!" Verity, a short, petite girl who is their shop assistant, looks up alarmed from where she was writing some order at her little desk, but George motions her reassuringly to stay as his twin marches off toward where a Slytherin teen is wobbling precariously on the said stool, seemingly after going ahead and trying out the fainting-fantasies, milder version of the fancies, placed on the upper racks, despite the 'no trying before paying' signs that are covering almost every inch of their shop.
Fred mutters "Arresto momentum," and no sooner the teen reaches the floor than he is snapping at the semi-conscious teen, "Cough up for whatever you've taken or you'll be cleaning our storerooms for no pay."
Lee snorts a laugh, "You're still a piss pot, aren't you? His eyes are rolling back in his head."
"Oh he'll be all right." George mutters, looking apathetically at him. Its not often, but it still happens. Stuff being nicked. Its high time that they put up some preventive charm.
"Wha.." The boy groans, eyes focusing now. "Oh 'm sorry. Was just curious, really. Wasn't tryna steal anythin'. Fantasies...thought it'd be like hemp or somethin'," George's eyebrows shoot up. The Slytherin reaches into his pocket and thrusts a few sickles into Fred's slack hand, before getting up.
"Hemp." Fred repeats blankly, taken aback.
"Try sniffing the smoke from the lamps in Trelawney's class." George calls encouragingly as the teen walks off. "Weirdo." he mumbles as he turns back to face the three.
"Weird for a Slytherin to go without at least one snarky retort." says Angelina, brows raised in surprise. Fred makes a 'whatever' expression.
Lee shrugs. "Heard that the Cannons were completely demolished in yesterday's match?"
George launches into a bitter rant.
For now, they forget life's bigger woes.