Birthday Surprises for All

Birthday Surprises for All

Thirty years old. Where had the time gone? He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. Did he look any different? Not really. Had there been a drastic change overnight? Had his face begun to pinch into tiny wrinkles as the clock ticked over into July 31st? It didn't appear so; his face was just as youthful and tanned as it had been the night before - those three weeks in Greece had been beyond hot. To him his eyes remained a little tired and haunted - they always did when hidden behind contacts as opposed to glasses - but there really was no discernable difference in his reflection from the previous morning. Hang on - was that a grey hair? No, just a tiny smudge on the mirror.

He dressed deliberately and smartly, making sure to tame his hair as much as possible, i.e. not at all, and sat quietly at the breakfast table over his cornflakes. He ate slowly, eating up the time with each measured lifting of the spoon to his mouth, ignoring the numerous House-Elves scuttling busily around him. Could he get through the day without giving himself away? Could he act responsibly, as his head wanted him to, as his heart didn't? Yes. Today was like any other day: the sky was still blue, the wind as fresh, the grass as green. Turning thirty wasn't a curse. The Burrow was just a house and it was just a party for him, not a trial or test. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. Christ! Facing that Horntail had been far easier than this.

It was nearing noon when he apparated over, silently winking into existence in the Weasleys' back garden. It really wasn't a bad day to be celebrating a birthday: the sun beat down heavily and the light breeze wafted through his hair as he walked over to be greeted by the family. Molly always seemed to be first, smiling widely as she hugged him warmly.

"Happy birthday Harry!" She pulled back to look at him more closely. "How does it feel to be thirty?"

He couldn't help smiling back. "Dreadful Molly. Positively dreadful!"

She tutted and lightly dusted down his shirt - he thought it looked flawless himself, but no matter how carefully he ironed them she always found a fault only she could find. "You're just like the rest of them young man: always pulling my leg."

Everyone was seated outside in the sun, a whole chorus of 'Happy Birthday to you!' followed him every step of the way to an empty chair. "Very funny! I was of the impression that was to be saved for when I blow out the candles on the cake."

"Who says you've got a cake?"

"Molly always bakes me a cake Bill. And a separate one for Neville. Where is he anyway?"

A hand was placed on his shoulder. "He is right here, and you are in his chair." Neville grinned warmly down at him. "Happy birthday Harry. You got me a present?"

Married life obviously suited the other birthday boy down to the ground and he obviously knew why. He grinned back regardless. "No. Happy birthday Neville. You got me one?"

"No," Neville said before they both said together: "That's alright then!"

As they both chuckled and Harry got up to dramatically give Neville his seat back, he could see her waving her head in amusement, the ring on her finger automatically catching his attention as it glinted in the sun. Neville had chosen well - it was perfect. "Every bloody year! Couldn't you come up with something different for once?"

Harry clicked his fingers and a plush leather armchair appeared out of thin air in an empty space. "Now, what would be the fun in that Ginny? You're a Party Pooper, that's what you are."

He managed to kiss her calmly on the cheek as she tutted just like her mother. "And you're a show-off Potter!"

He cast his gaze around everyone else. "I know. I get it from Hermione," he added, spotting the woman in question sat next to Ron.

"I resent that remark, Harry," she said loudly as he came over to her and enveloped her in a kind hug. "Happy birthday."

He held her at arms length. "Thanks. And get out of my seat George!"

Everyone chuckled as George rolled his eyes dramatically. "How does he do it? Have you got eyes in the back of your head?" He just smiled in response. No explanation was necessary.

Fred spoke up. "No girlfriend Harry? That's unusual."

"Yeah," George chimed in. "How many have there been Fred?"

"I don't know. 10 or 11...hundred?"

Everyone laughed again, as Harry - ignoring them - carried on greeting everyone in turn, but the twins, as always, carried on relentlessly. "I just can't believe it - the great Harry Potter turns thirty and he's still the most eligible bachelor in the land!"

"Yeah, but now we know why, don't we Fred?" George said in an oddly significant tone.

Harry paused for a moment, his hand still in Arthur's grasp. He stared at them pointedly as he spoke. "And that would be?"

"Would you Adam and Eve it? He doesn't know."

"Well he doesn't read Witch Weekly, does he?"

At the name of the magazine reaching his ears, he inwardly relaxed. There was absolutely no way that that piece of trash could ever-

"Your secret's out, Mr 'I can shag any girl I please' Potter."

As Molly reprimanded her son - "Fred! Language!" - George whipped out a rolled up copy of the magazine and thrust it into Harry's grasp. Harry swiftly unravelled it and somehow managed to only raise a solitary eyebrow, frowning slightly at the headline that confronted him. George was triumphant. "It turns out he's been shagging men too!"

Harry didn't pay attention to Molly's outburst - "George!" - His eyes scanned through the article. He quickly flicked through the pages, before rolling it all back up, hiding the picture of his own face smiling from the front cover of the latest edition. He stiffened his posture and looked back up at George who was grinning in absolute delight. "I knew you were hiding something from us, little man."

Fred, free from his mother's grasp, cut in. "How else could you have turned down every single one of those cute, little Hogwarts girls you teach falling over at your feet?" Molly lunged at him again in response.

Everyone had wide smiles on their faces - they all knew the latest Fred and George show had been coming ever since they'd arrived, each holding a copy of Witch Weekly in their hands, hunched over, obviously formulating a little plan of action. Fred was batting off Molly's swipes, but George's manic grin only widened. "What have you got to say to that Harry? Eh? What've you got to say for yourself?"

He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. His shoulders slumped forwards. When he finally looked up, his gaze pivoted around everyone, one by one, and as it passed by them all it took their smiles with it like an outgoing tide, before it finally got back around to the Weasley twin before him, who's own smile had begun to falter. "I - well," Harry stammered softly. "I hadn't meant to tell you all like this, and especially not today of all days, but I suppose - now that it's public knowledge - I better come out and tell the truth." There was a huge general gasp of astonishment, sucking up all the life out of the gathering like a vacuum. Once more he looked around at them all, his expression one of complete and utter defeat, before he once more locked his gaze upon his tormentors. They weren't smiling anymore. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out for a second. "I - I love you, George."

All was silent for several seconds. No one moved. No one spoke. Everyone's eyes were locked on him he knew, but he only had eyes for George. The Weasley twin's mouth opened and closed like a fish, at a loss for words, all traces of humour completely vanished. It was only when Harry saw the man visibly flinch under his intense, open gaze that his sheen of impenetrability cracked, and he smiled smugly as he stepped forwards. George stepped back in fright, which only made him snort with amusement. He put his hands reverently on the older man's shoulders. "I'm only kidding, George."

George let out a breath of relief quite noticeably; everyone else burst out in raucous laughter. He nonchalantly turned around and barked, "Now where's my cup of tea?" By the time it arrived, Fred handing it over on bended knee - "I salute thee, O Great One!" - Ron had only just stopped rolling around on his knees with laughter, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Bloody brilliant Harry!" He nodded his head with a wide grin, before he turned around in his comfy seat. "George - would you be a dear and get me some biscuits, love?"

He had to admit, if he were feeling right, there was nothing better than a Weasley gathering at the Burrow, no matter how taxing they always were on his ability to keep his emotions in check. He'd never allowed his emotions to pour forth so uncontrollably before though. At least he had said George rather than Ginny.