Birthday Surprises

From then on, it seemed as if something had unlocked inside all of them, and in the days that followed, they spent a lot of time talking about Fred - though he wouldn't be the only one for long. In fact, their conversations soon included many of the people who had lost their lives over the past year: from Ted and Nymphadora Tonks to Lupin, Mad Eye, Snape and even Lavender Brown, Ron's first girlfriend at Hogwarts, the mention of whom now made him avert his gaze with a deep frown. They even spoke of Colin Creevey, who had been too young for the Battle of Hogwarts but had snuck back anyway, and on a particularly hot day in early July, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Luna visited the small stone grave of Dobby the Elf for the first time since his death, after stopping for tea at Bill and Fleur's in Shell Cottage.

"You look good!" Luna said in her slightly dreamy voice, her wide, glassy eyes looking thoughtfully at Harry's hair, which had been temporarily tamed by Mr Weasley's capable hands. 

The two of them had wandered to the dunes behind the house while the others went to the beach, and they both sat down in the warm sand as the sky began to turn pink. Seagulls cried above them, and in the distance they could see Ginny, Ron and Hermione treading into the waves with their trouser legs rolled up. "A bit tired, maybe. But a lot better than those pictures in the Daily Prophet," she added, and Harry, who had turned to look at her, winced slightly. "Thanks, Luna," he said, not sure if that was a compliment or an insult, but Luna only shrugged. 

"Daddy was quite shocked when he saw your photo at the Malfoy trial - he was convinced you had a Wrackspurt in your ear. Fleur was quite cross with him about it - but I think he was just worried about you. You looked awfully thin… you don't have a Wrackspurt in your ear, do you?" she wondered aloud, and Harry thought he caught her staring intently at the air around his head for a moment, as if she could see the invisible creatures that, according to Xenophilius Lovegood, buzzed around the heads of wizards and witches, leaving them increasingly confused. He laughed, feeling his cheeks turn a little pink. 

"I don't think so," he said hastily, pushing up his glasses, and Luna nodded contentedly. She turned, resting her chin on her knobby knees, and began to trace swirling patterns in the sand below. The wind picked up strands of her long, dirty blonde hair and the large, multi-coloured shells she had made into earrings jingled softly. Harry noticed that her once pale nose had taken on some colour in the summer sun, and she, too, didn’t look as thin as she had when they'd found her at Malfoy Manor a few weeks ago. She hummed.  

"I was grateful when they didn't call me in for questioning in person," she said in a light voice, before brushing the sand off a stone she'd just found. "I'm not sure what I would have told them, especially not with those charms they put on you. Fleur says they're an invasion of privacy - although I rather enjoyed your fit!" she interrupted herself, grinning over at Harry. 

He groaned, instantly reliving the moment he had lost his temper in front of the entire Wizengamot. The fact that the Daily Prophet had printed his statement word for word under the headline 'Cowards Overpowered! - Malfoy in Shackles' hadn't helped, and Harry still cringed at the memory of it. But Luna merely shook her head vehemently, the shells in her ears shimmering at the movement. 

"Oh no, really!" she assured him, adding with a cheerful tone in her voice, "Daddy wanted to send a Crumple-Horned Snorkack to the Malfoys when he first heard about the trials. But I'm not so sure..."  she shrugged, and Harry bit his tongue, trying not to smile. 

"I would have liked to have seen that," he told her and for a moment Luna smiled blissfully at the thought of the purple, rhinoceros-like animal that, as far as Harry knew, was more likely to have sprung from the strange imagination of the Lovegoods than from the deep forests of Sweden where it supposedly lived, according to the Quibbler. Then her expression turned more serious again.  

"Sometimes I still think about them," she said slowly, squinting at the sky as a pair of seagulls circled overhead. Harry watched her in surprise. 

"The Malfoys?" he asked after a moment, and Luna nodded absentmindedly. She sighed, and her fingers moved to the strange piece of driftwood she wore on a string around her neck. Then she frowned, and when she spoke again Harry thought her eyes were a little more distant than usual.

"Draco would come down to us sometimes - to bring food or to fetch Mr Ollivander. Once he just stood there for a moment..." she thought, wrapping her arms around her knees again. "I don't think he liked me very much when we were at school - he used to make fun of me, but then again most people did," she shrugged and smiled as if it didn't matter, and Harry couldn't help but feel a little guilty at her words. He liked Luna - respected her for her strange resilience and fierce loyalty - but even he couldn't help but laugh at her odd, at times ridiculous, beliefs. Right now, though, she didn't look ridiculous at all. She frowned. "I always thought he looked like he was going to cry. He seemed... sad, somehow." she finished.

Harry sat there for a moment, stunned, as he watched the sun set on the horizon, painting the clouds in shades of orange and pink. When he blinked, the familiar image of a younger Malfoy, white knuckled and with his face contorted in panic, popped into his mind - but it was immediately replaced by a newer, much more recent one: Draco Malfoy, standing before the assembled Wizengamot, his narrow shoulders squared under a dark suit jacket, the trembling of his fingers carefully concealed behind clasped hands. Harry frowned too, plucking at a tuft of wispy grass. 

"Yeah, that seems about right..." he finally found himself saying, taken aback by Luna's strangely acute perception - but she only hummed again. 

For a moment they sat in an unfamiliar but not entirely uncomfortable silence, watching as the last of the sun finally dipped below the waves and smoke began to billow from the chimney of the cottage. The first faint sounds of conversation could be heard in the distance as Ron, Hermione and Ginny made their way back to them, and Luna curled her toes in the sand, looking content. 

"Ginny says they still haven't found Hermione's parents?" she eventually asked, and Harry sighed again. 

"No... Kingsley tells me they are doing all they can - but we all know Hermione. Her memory charm was brilliant. I think she actually feels quite guilty about it..." he said in a low voice, taking a deep breath as he felt a not dissimilar emotion well up in his chest. Luna, who seemed to be able to read whatever was written on his face, simply put her hand on his and squeezed it. 

"They'll find them," she said with certainty in her simple, matter-of-fact way, and she smiled at him again with those pale silver eyes. Then she shrugged. "When they pulled me off the train that day, I didn't doubt for a second that I would see Daddy again. I knew someone would come for me. I kept believing that - and I was right," she explained, squeezing his hand a second time before adding firmly, "They will find them, I am sure of it."

Harry studied her fingers for a moment, taking in their knobby joints and short nails, and there was something about Lunas unwavering confidence, that strange optimism she carried with her, that moved him - and he was grateful when she turned her head as someone called their names on the beach below, for his eyes were burning. She hummed a reply and stood up, brushing some of the sand from her legs, and when she finally looked down at him again, Harry had managed to collect himself.  

With a grateful smile, he took her outstretched hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet with surprising strength - and shoulder to shoulder they made their way down the dunes, past Dobby's grave in the garden and the shell-decorated house, across the still warm sand and over to join the others. 

"How are the Dirigible Plums coming, by the way?" Harry asked and Luna gasped in excitement. 

*

As Harry was to learn on the evening before his eighteenth birthday, Luna Lovegood was once again to be proved right: They had just finished dinner and were in the middle of a heated debate about who should climb up to the ghoul in the attic to talk to him about the nightly lament he had recently begun to sing (Ginny had finally given in after Ron had argued rather strongly that he had already taken away the ghoul's old room and could not be the one to take away his last hobby) - when Arthur Weasley's Patronus suddenly burst through the kitchen door of the Burrow and stopped on its hind legs in the middle of the mountain of pots and plates.

Mrs Weasley let out a shriek of horror and Harry, Ron and Hermione instinctively leapt to their feet, wands already drawn. Several chairs rattled and someone's cup overturned, but no one reacted as it spilled its contents over the remainder of the beans. 

"Everything's all right," Arthur Weasley's voice carried calmly through the kitchen, as if he had almost expected this reaction, and the animals' noses twitched as it spoke. Molly gasped, and Ron, who had gone as white as a sheet, breathed a sigh of relief, but no one put down their wands. Harry could hear his own pulse pounding in his ears and he swallowed hard, forcing his heart to calm. They all stared, breathless, as the soft pulsing light of the Patronus reflected off the silverware. 

Then the animal opened its snout again, carrying Mr Weasley's magically transmitted voice: "They have found Mr and Mrs Granger - Kingsley has just informed me," it said - and this time Hermione let out a shriek, before hastily clapping her hands over her mouth so as not to miss a word. She stared at the weasel with eyes the size of dinner plates. "They were admitted to St Mungo's this afternoon. Their memory hasn't been restored yet, but so far they're doing well. Hermione can use the Floo network - it'll be a while before she can see them, but I'll wait with her at the hospital," the Patronus finished, spinning on its axis for a moment before vanishing into thin air the next, leaving nothing behind but a shimmer of silvery white light.

They were all speechless for a moment, until Mrs Weasley let out a sigh of relief, pressing a hand to her chest, and when they turned to look at Hermione, they found her with her mouth agape and her hands trembling. "Mum and Dad!" she finally managed hoarsely, and Harry thought she suddenly looked years younger. "They found Mum and Dad!" Finally, she burst into tears. Ron immediately rushed over and held her. Her sobs shook him, and her wand fell to the floor with a clatter. It rolled under the table, and when Harry bent down to pick it up, his heart still pounding, he found himself blinking rapidly. 

Minutes passed while the Weasley clock quietly ticked away, and eventually Hermione seemed to collect herself enough to let go of Ron's soaked sweatshirt. She smiled, red-faced and puffy-eyed, and strands of her bushy hair came loose as she rubbed over her nose with a sleeve. Then she laughed, relieved and in utter disbelief, and when she looked over at Harry and saw the expression on his face, she rounded the table and hugged him fiercely. "They're safe, Harry. It's all right," she hummed and he simply nodded, unable to speak.

Finally, Mrs Weasley patted her cheek, beaming. "There you go, dear," she smiled, and a minute later, as Hermione hurried up the stairs to get her bag and robes, she was still beaming. Harry and Ron looked after her - and were promptly swept out of the way as Mrs Weasley set to work lighting a fire, tutting softly to herself. They bumped shoulders for a moment before Ron suddenly drew him into an awkward half hug - and when they parted, they both cleared their throats, looking elsewhere.

"These are for Arthur," Mrs Weasley explained as Hermione emerged from the stairs again, Ginny trailing behind her, and she held out a couple of wrapped sandwiches. Hermione nodded, and Mrs Weasley studied her for a moment before pulling her to her chest. "Good luck," she offered with teary eyes, and Hermione smiled shyly, already welling up again. "Thank you," she managed to say, and Harry thought she meant more than just the sandwiches. Mrs Weasley brushed it off with a shake of her head.

"Oh, please. It's a pleasure to have you," she said simply, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear in a motherly gesture.  

"Tell Dad to keep us in the loop!" Ron chimed in and Hermione turned to look at him for a moment before planting a brief but very passionate kiss on his lips. Harry hastily looked away while Ginny grinned in amusement. When she finally let go, Ron's ears were drenched in a deep scarlet colour. "Right," he breathed, a little confused, but then grinned - if a little embarrassed - "Bye!"

Hermione smiled and took a step into the flames. "Cross your fingers for me," she said to them before announcing loud and clear, "St Mungo's Hospital, London!"

The fire roared, and with a final green flicker and a spurt of embers, she disappeared - the last thing they saw of her were her wide, hopeful eyes.  

Neither of them went to bed early that night - instead they retired to the sitting room, where Harry and Ron tried to distract themselves with a game of Wizard Chess, and Ginny played with Crookshanks whose eyes occasionally flashed dangerously at the Pigmy Puff on her shoulder. Mrs Weasley was leafing through a new issue of Witch Weekly, the cover of which advertised the 'Ten Most Beautiful Wizarding Places in All of Europe' and 'Madame Misfortune's Readings for the Coming Month'. 

Harry had just defeated one of Ron's rooks in an all too obvious move when the latter sighed wearily and glanced at the family clock, which showed the time, location and current condition of each Weasley. It was half past eleven and Mr Weasley's hand was still on 'In Hospital'. 

"What do you think is going on?" He asked anxiously, tapping his fingers on the board. Harry yawned, rolling his stiff shoulders and Mrs Weasley sighed as she peered sceptically over the edge of her magazine towards the kitchen. 

"They should be back soon. It's almost midnight..." she thought, her eyes worried. Ginny frowned and half-heartedly sent the butterbeer cork she had been using as a toy skittering across the floor for the dozenth time. Crookshanks dashed after it, crawling under the sofa where he disappeared for a moment.

"I suppose Arthur would let us know if anything bad happened..." Mrs Weasley had just mused - and then she jumped as one hand of the clock ticked gently to 'At Home'. 

"Oh, look!" she exclaimed excitedly, and a few seconds later the crackling of floo flames could be heard from the kitchen. Immediately they all sprang to their feet and Crookshanks, who hadn't expected the sudden commotion, hissed in surprise as he headed for the open window and out into the garden. 

When they reached the kitchen, Hermione was just pulling off her dark blue travelling robe. Behind her, Arthur stood with a tired but satisfied look on his face, his reddish-grey hair a little dishevelled and his small glasses slightly askew. He smiled as he saw them all streaming in. "Ah, I told you so!" he exclaimed, grinning at Hermione. She turned to them in surprise, a broad, happy smile on her face - and Harry felt relief wash over him before she had even begun to speak. 

"Mum and Dad are fine!" she burst out, her voice almost cracking. "It will be a few days before they can recover their memories, but the healers are in good spirits! They even let me see them!" She beamed, and Harry could feel Ron, too, relax noticeably beside him.

"That's great, Hermione!" he said, and in the next moment she fell happily into his arms. Harry smiled and hurriedly stepped aside as Mrs Weasley rushed over to hug her husband.

"Arthur Weasley, you've scared us to death!" she scolded him a moment later and Mr Weasley held up his hands in appeasement. He smiled, too. "I know, I know, Molly, but someone had to deliver the message and I didn't want to send an owl. You know how long it takes for them to get here," he said soothingly, and Mrs Weasley nodded, albeit reluctantly. 

Eventually they all returned to the sitting room where Hermione was sitting cross-legged on the floor and as she began to talk, Crookshanks who had obviously got over his fright, climbed into her lap and began to purr softly. Mr Weasley opened a bottle of Firewhisky and they all drank and listened as she recounted the adventurous Australian journey of Wendell and Monica Wilson, who were currently still completely unaware of their daughter's existence - and apparently under the illusion that they had been prematurely deported from the country for lack of vaccinations. Hermione herself had suggested the idea to the local healers, after her non-magical but clearly very intelligent parents had become increasingly suspicious of their stay - and Mr Weasley's eyes lit up as she explained twice how Muggle vaccinations work. "Incredible!" he kept saying, completely mesmerised, eagerly looking back and forth between her and Harry, "Absolutely incredible!"

When Hermione finally fell silent, she looked tired but overjoyed. She scratched behind Crookshanks' ear, who stretched in delight, and then turned to look at the clock on the wall behind her, yawning contentedly. A moment later she froze, and then let out a gasp as she turned to look at Harry, her expression so expectantly that he sat up, a little startled. 

"What?" he asked in surprise, and a smile began to spread across her face. Hermione laughed.

"Look!" she exclaimed, pointing at the clock hand which had just gone past the number 12, and when Harry didn't seem to understand she shook her head at him. "It's past midnight!" she announced with a grin, and suddenly there was a flurry of movement around them. Ginny smiled and Mrs Weasley gasped, while Mr Weasley hastily rushed to refill their glasses. Ron whooped and when he turned to look at him, a broad toothy grin was plastered all over his face, scrunching up his many freckles. He clapped Harry on the back and a moment later the whole room seemed to erupt as they all shouted in unison: "Happy birthday, Harry!" 

*

They slept in the next morning and had a late breakfast before Hermione returned to the hospital with Mr Weasley. Ron accompanied them, and Mrs Weasley involved Ginny in the birthday preparations, so Harry wandered aimlessly around the house for a while. There was little to do, and when he stuck his head through the kitchen door for the third time to offer his help, she banished him from the Burrow altogether with an impatient wave of her arm. 

"Go and enjoy the weather, my dear!" Mrs Weasley insisted, fussing over the stove, and Ginny shot him a half-amused, half-apologetic look as she peeled a towering mountain of potatoes. 

So it was that Harry spent the afternoon wandering through the fields surrounding Ottery St Catchpole, where he encountered no one but a few Muggle hikers and herds of sheep as the sun beat down on him. Eventually he settled down under the shade of a huge beech tree - and found himself suddenly reminded of the many summers he had spent at Privet Drive, trying to avoid either his cousin Dudley or his aunt and uncle. The thought of the Dursleys was still strange to him: they must have returned to their house by now, and Harry imagined Aunt Petunia meticulously cleaning the kitchen counter while Uncle Vernon fussed over the overgrown garden. Dudley's birthday fell at the end of June, which meant he was now of age too - and Harry wondered for a moment if he had gone off to university or simply decided to join his father's company, which made drills. He shook his head, as if that might help him get rid of the Dursleys', and sighed. 

As the sun began to move towards the horizon, and with his shirt clinging uncomfortably to his sweaty skin, Harry decided to make his way back. The path to the Burrow was dry from the sun and the gate squeaked softly as it swung open, and he was greeted by a fat hen who clucked softly as he stepped through. She pecked curiously at his shoelaces before spotting something else of interest nearby. 

From the garden, Harry thought he heard faint noises and he curiously rounded a large juniper bush to discover that someone had already moved several tables out of the house and onto the lawn. They were lined up in a long row, their colourful tablecloths swaying gently in the breeze. Then, a familiar voice rang out from behind him, and he jumped as something large and wooden whizzed past the end of his nose, missing him by a hair. Turning on his axis to find the source of the projectile, Harry spotted George Weasley at the door. 

Red-haired and freckled like the rest of the family, the twin grinned at him, wand raised, and a long caravan of chairs bobbed in the air before him. With a flourish, he sent them tumbling and spinning towards the centre of the lawn, where they lined up neatly around the table. George nodded in satisfaction, then strolled over to Harry. "Good reflexes!" he said, clapping Harry on the shoulder in greeting. "You'd almost think you were dealing with the Harry Potter. Happy birthday, mate." Harry grinned back. "Thanks!" He said, instinctively searching his face for a moment: George still looked different, with darker eyes and a strange twist to his usual smile - and Harry still hadn't got used to the dark, gaping hole where his ear had once been, before it had been cut off by a curse - but he thought the fifth son of the Weasleys looked a little better than he had weeks before, and the crooked grin on his face seemed genuine as he winked. 

"It's good to see you. I didn't know you were coming!" Harry said, and George nodded, tilting his head in the direction of the house.

"Mum's invited everyone - she's been running around the place like a madwoman for most of the afternoon. I heard she kicked you out?" he added, chuckling, and Harry nodded sheepishly. George just waved him off. 

"Ah, don't worry about it. She just likes to see her children slaving away!" Harry bit down a smile and they both glanced at the open kitchen window for a moment, as if expecting Mrs Weasley to stick her head out in indignation. When nothing of the sort seemed to happen, George shrugged again.

“I’ll rile her up eventually.” he mused, burrowing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Then a far more mischievous smirk tugged at the corner of his lips and he leaned over conspiratorially. “Speaking of which, Harry…” he lowered his voice, and with one last look towards the Burrow he pulled something out that looked like a collection of small, dainty bottles. "Better give these to you now before Mum finds out. Compliments of Weasley's Wizards Wheezes: some more Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, a vial of Weasley's Wet Weather and I even threw in a bottle of Miracle Stubble Grow - not that you need it, but you never know who you might want to impress -" he winked, then added, "oh, and this is our latest: the No-Show Stopper. Might have to work on the name..." he trailed off for a moment and Harry looked at the inconspicuous, almost translucent liquid George handed him alongside three other vials.

"What does it do?" he asked with interest, and there was a gleam in George's eyes as he spoke: "The idea came to us last year as part of our Defence Against the Dark Arts line, when we thought of your nice cloak, but the mixture wasn't quite right. We wanted something that could turn someone invisible and undetectable - it took a while and a fair bit of trial and error. Fred's left foot disappeared for a whole week -" he explained, pausing briefly at the mention of his late twin brother and his face darkened. Then he shook his head and continued, tapping the bottle. "Anyway, this is the end result. Three good sips of this and no spell in the world will be able to detect you for about five glorious hours. Invisibility included. A slight tingle in your fingertips is perfectly normal..." He added with a frown, and Harry stared up at him, impressed. 

"Wow," he marvelled, turning the bottle around in his hand. "That sounds really handy. Thanks, George," he said, instinctively thinking of his last few visits to the Ministry, which had always been accompanied by a crowd of reporters and curious glances. George, who seemed to be following his thoughts, leaned in a little closer. 

"I'm sure you'll find a use for it. Cool picture in the Daily Prophet, by the way." He teased, and Harry groaned in annoyance. George laughed and watched as he shoved the bottles from Weasley's Wizards Wheezes into his pocket before they both turned, strolling towards the open front door.

"So business is back on then?" Harry asked gingerly, and he was grateful when George replied easily. He nodded, a mixture of pride and sadness in his eyes. 

"It's still a bit slower than usual, but you wouldn't believe the things Angelina gets the customers to buy!" He mused with a wry smile - and Harry, who had known Angelina Johnson mainly as the tough captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, grinned at the image of her drilling reluctant customers into making a purchase.

"Glad to hear it." He said sincerely and George nodded.

"It was about time, to be honest. I couldn't bear to sit around all day doing nothing - sure, Diagon Alley still isn't the same, but - ouch, Ron!" he shouted as something hit him from behind with a clatter. He turned and rubbed the back of his head, Harry following suit - and they both watched as a tall stack of plates skipped past them, leaning dangerously. Ron stuck his head out of the window and grinned. 

"Sorry George - oh, hey Harry!" he called out, raising his hand in greeting. Then he looked back at his brother. "Mum says you'd better hurry - dinner's almost ready," he added, then disappeared into the house again. George groaned, still rubbing the back of his head, but his expression had returned to a smile. "Tell her she's torturing an invalid!" He shouted loudly, stalking off towards the kitchen, and Harry trailed after him, chuckling in amusement. 

A little later, the long table creaked and groaned under mountains of roast beef, mashed potatoes, green beans and pies, and Harry sat down with Hermione and the other Weasleys. As they ate, she told them about her visit to St Mungo's and the Swiss memory specialist they had called in - and they all roared with laughter as Ron tried to imitate his thick, broken English. Harry went for seconds - and then thirds - and Mrs Weasley beamed as he thanked her profusely, feeling well fed and content. "Of course, dear," she said, patting his hand. 

At about half past seven, Luna, Neville, Angelina and Lee Jordan appeared at the gates of the Burrow, Hagrid in tow, and they had to conjure up more chairs and scoot closer together so that everyone could be seated at the table. Mrs Weasley served them all ice cream, and when Kingsley Shacklebolt himself appeared a few moments later, he grinned broadly and boomed: "Ah, perfect timing!"

Eventually, Mr Weasley brought out the Firewhisky again, and Charlie pulled out a bottle of something strong and Romanian, which he shared with Hagrid, as no one else dared go near it. Fleur and Hermione sipped glasses of white wine while the rest of them drank their butterbeers, and as the sun began to set and the many enchanted lanterns came to life, the atmosphere around the table became more and more cheerful. Harry grinned from ear to ear from his seat wedged between Ron and Bill as he watched them all enjoying each other's company. Across from him, Luna and Ginny were talking with their heads together, and next to them, Lee Jordan had just shared a joke with Kingsley, who was wiping his eyes with laughter. Even Percy Weasley seemed to be smiling as he listened to George and Angelina's story of a labelling mishap at the shop. 

Finally, as the first stars began to appear in the sky, Mr. Weasley's voice rose from the other end of the table, and everyone turned to look at him expectantly. He smiled, his skewed glasses catching the light of the lanterns. "Well," he began, "I won't keep you long - dinner was excellent, and I'd hate to interrupt my wife's noble mission of feeding us all into a food coma," he joked, earning a round of chuckles. Beside him, Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips in mock offence, but her eyes twinkled as she gave him a fond smile.

Mr. Weasley’s grin widened as he raised his glass toward Harry. "But since it' a special occasion, it seems only right to say a few words about the man of the hour. Now, I'm sure we could go on for days about Harry's bravery, his sacrifices, or the many heroic deeds we've all witnessed-” he continued, and Harry felt his cheeks grow warm as everyone around the table turned to look at him, approvingly. "But for me," Mr. Weasley added, his tone softening, "what stands out most is how when things were at their absolute darkest, Harry never stopped thinking about others. Even with the weight of the world on his shoulders he chose kindness, compassion, and a sense of duty to those around him - and that, to me, is the mark of a truly great man." There was a pause as Mr. Weasley' words settled over the group, and Harry shifted in his seat, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. Hagrid muttered a gruff "Damn right" into his beard, and George gave a whistle of approval.

Mr. Weasley’s eyes lingered on Harry, his smile warm and steady. "So, here's to you, Harry. A young man who's earned every bit of peace and happiness the future has to offer. May this year bring you all the joy you deserve - and none of the trouble." He finished with a playful wink and the table erupted in cheers and clinking glasses as everyone raised their voices in unison and shouted: "To Harry!" 

Hermione laughed, her hair wild and her cheeks flushed, while Ron slapped Harry on the back with a grin that seemed to make his whole face crinkle. His own face burned and he suddenly felt very warm - but as he looked around at the people he cared about most, Harry couldn't help but smile back, his own heart swelling in his chest. 

Hours later, long after Mr and Mrs Weasley, Bill, Fleur, Percy and Kingsley Shacklebolt - all of whom had to work the next day - had said their goodbyes, Luna and Neville left, Hagrid in tow, who had spent the last hour or so tearfully babbling to anyone who would listen about the first time he had held Harry as a baby. Ron, George, Lee Jordan and Ginny all roared with laughter at his description of 'teeny weeny fingers' and 'tiny toesy wosies', while Hagrid snorted into a flowered handkerchief the size of a tablecloth, the sound of it not unlike that of an elephant. “He was so small, Hermione, I’m tellin’ yeh - I coulda held ’im in one ’and, I could!” he was sniffling now, as Hermione gently tried to usher him through the garden gate, giving Harry a look over her shoulder that was part pity, part amusement. Harry watched them from a distance, sighing - somewhat relieved when she finally managed to squeeze him through the gate without breaking it, and moments later Hagrid side-alonged with Luna and Neville - who were swaying heavily under his weight. Then a movement caught Harry’s eye and he smiled as he turned to see Ginny strolling towards him.

"Next time I'll ask him for pictures," she said with a warm smile on her face and their shoulders brushed for a moment as she came up beside him. Harry huffed.

"I'm sure Rita Skeeter's already looking for them. Probably writing a scandal as we speak," he mused, and Ginny laughed lightly before shaking her head.

"The Chosen Toddler. That'll sell some papers."

They both chuckled, and Harry found himself so elated by the night that not even the thought of vile headlines could dampen his mood. There was a warm glow in his chest - and it spread through his body like firewhiskey. Next to him, Ginny shifted, her eyes wandering over the lanterns scattered around the garden, and they both watched as Ron and Hermione returned to their seats at the table, arms linked. George, Angelina, Lee and Charlie were still talking quietly, their laughter echoing across the lawn. She hummed and then smiled to herself, turning back to look at Harry. "I'm glad we got to celebrate today," she eventually said, almost cautiously. "Your birthday, I mean." Harry nodded. 

"Me too," he agreed, running a hand through his hair. "It's been... nice." Harry added, and he cringed slightly at the awkwardness of the word - but it was the only thing that felt right at this moment. Ginny smiled faintly, seeming to understand what he meant. 

"It's been a while since we've had anything nice..." she mused, and her eyes shone dark and sad in the dim light. The words seemed to hang there for a few heartbeats, heavy with meaning, and Harry suddenly found himself shifting on his feet, unsure of what to say next. When the words didn't come, he just studied her face - the soft curve of her cheek, the constellation of freckles across her nose, now half-shadowed. Strands of her red hair tickled his upper arm as a light breeze picked them up, and suddenly he realised just how close they were. Ginny hummed again.

"A lot has changed in a year, hasn't it?" she mused, her eyebrows furrowed slightly, and Harry couldn't help but agree. 

"Yeah," he said, and he couldn't quite read the look in her eyes as she studied him. There was something there - something unspoken, perhaps even uncertain, as if they were both trying to figure out how to be in the same space after everything that had happened. For a moment, neither of them moved. The world around them suddenly seemed to quiet down, to shrink until it was just the two of them on the lawn, trapped in that strange in-between space. Then - and Harry wasn't sure if it was the butterbeer or the cheerful atmosphere of the evening that gave him the simple, stupid courage to do it - he reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Ginny hesitated for a moment, seemingly surprised, but then she smiled again - smaller and more tentative than he was used to. In the darkness, his hands found hers and he squeezed her fingers. They were warm and when she squeezed back and Harry finally leaned in to kiss her, it felt more like a question than an answer. 

For a moment their noses brushed, and he could smell the faint scent of flowers on her skin as they both hesitated. Then their lips met, familiar and new at the same time - and though there was no urgency, no fire, just a gentle press that felt almost too careful, Harry thought he liked that he could still taste the lingering sweetness of dessert on her tongue. They staggered slightly on the uneven ground as he tilted his head, and when his trainers caught on a knotted root, Ginny's nose hit his glasses, almost knocking them into his eye. She let out a breathy laugh and whispered, "Sorry," as he pulled back to fix them, but Harry just shrugged and smiled, clearing his throat. He regained his footing, the fingers of his left hand still intertwined with hers and their faces mere inches apart, and just as he was wondering if he should lean in a second time, Ginny's expression changed - something flickered behind her eyes and Harry hesitated. He remembered kissing Ginny last year with an eager confidence he could never quite explain - like flying on a broom, so natural he barely thought about it. But at this moment, every move felt just a little off, a little too careful - and a knot of insecurity began to tighten in his stomach. He was about to open his mouth to speak when a loud gagging sound suddenly came from behind them - and they both jumped apart with a little too much force.

"Seriously, again?!" Ron groaned in disgust, the half dozen chairs floating in front of him teetering dangerously close to the kitchen window as he shielded his eyes with his hands. "Merlin's pants, get a room..." he muttered and stalked away quickly. George appeared just behind him, waggling his eyebrows at the sight of them.

"Let the man enjoy himself, Ron - he's our hero after all!" he called after his brother, and by now Harry was acutely aware of the heat creeping up his neck. Ron just huffed.  "That doesn't mean I like seeing him snogging my sister!" he argued, and George shrugged as he strolled after him. "She's my sister too and I don't mind!" 

"Hang on, who's snogging who?" a third voice chimed in and a moment later Angelina's face peeked around the corner. "Oh, hi Harry!" she grinned and gave them a quick apologetic wave before she quickly ducked away again. Somewhere in the garden, Harry thought he heard Hermione gasp at the whispered news. Someone else laughed, warm and easy, and he groaned, rubbing his forehead.

Ginny sighed as she crossed her arms over her chest, a deep frown on her face, and as he studied her in the darkness, he suddenly and very briefly wondered if she was more annoyed at her brother's timing or grateful for the excuse to step away from him. Feeling a whole mix of complicated emotions all at once, Harry let his hands fall limply to his sides and swallowed. "So..." he began, just as Ginny said: "I'd better go in and help them clean up." 

She tried a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes - and when something inside the house crashed with a loud bang, she tore away from his gaze too quickly. A light flickered on in the upper floors of the Burrow, and moments later, Mrs Weasley's tired, but decidedly still intimidating voice rang through the hall. 

"Right... yeah. Go." Harry agreed hastily and watched as she turned on her heels, already jogging towards the front door. He lingered a moment to look after her, his useless hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans. Then he licked his lips, tasting the last bitter notes of the wine, and let out a breath. This wasn’t how it was supposed to feel, he thought to himself, and the last bit of warmth in his chest disappeared. The wind picked up again, ruffling the leaves of the nearby willow, and Harry almost shivered, the mild summer breeze suddenly feeling strangely cold on his skin. With one last look towards the garden, where the last of the lanterns were still glowing softly, he huffed to himself and followed her inside.

***