Chapter Text
Two weeks later.
“Percy, George, sort out the tables and chairs. Ginny, dishes and cutlery. Ron, I’ll need you to give me a hand with the food,” commanded Molly Weasley. “Harry, will you be a dear and get out the drinks?”
Out in the Burrow’s garden, Hermione was waving her wand in wide sweeping motions, covering the trees and bushes with conjured bunting, ribbons and bows, balloons of all shapes and sizes, and a giant banner with the words “HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!” in big cheerful letters that glowed and flashed and changed colours in rhythmic patterns. In a corner, under a tree, Andromeda Tonks sat demurely on a picnic blanket, watching Teddy as he chased a dog-shaped balloon Hermione had enchanted to scamper along at child’s-head height.
As plates and bottles began levitating out of the house, the kitchen Floo flared up and Bill and Fleur came through; with a big grin, Bill slapped Harry hard on the back, causing him to stumble, and shoved a carelessly-wrapped package into his hands.
“Happy birthday, Potter, see if you’ll find that useful. Charlie clubbed in with us too,” said Bill, and wandered over to the stove to greet his mother and hopefully steal a bite of something.
Fleur swished over in a floral print summer wrap dress, managing to look glamorously chic even while balancing Victoire on one hip in a matching outfit. “Say ‘appy birthday!” she cooed; Victoire lisped “appy bufday”, flushed Weasley-red and then buried her face in her mother’s neck. Fleur laughed, gave Harry an enthusiastic “ ‘appy birthday, ‘arry!” and two Gallic kisses on the cheeks, then glided out to the garden.
Ginny passed by with a box of knives and forks; she grabbed a fistful of Harry’s shirt, dragged him down and smooched him soundly on the mouth. “Mine,” she growled, shooting a dark look at the departing Frenchwoman’s damnably perfect back.
Harry grinned, leaned in, and kissed her again softly. “All yours, Weasley.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek; Ginny was a huge mass of freckles all over from training in the July sun, and suddenly she couldn’t help it; a schoolgirlish giggle broke out of her, and she walked hand in hand with Harry out the kitchen door.
Soon the tables outside were creaking under the weight of giant platters of food; there was a massive joint of roast beef, stacks of Yorkshire puddings all puffy and crisp, steaming jacket potatoes, lettuce and carrots and peas fresh from the Burrow’s vegetable garden, bottles of Butterbeer and elderflower wine, jugs of pumpkin juice, and both treacle tart and a birthday cake for afters.
Ron rubbed his hands appreciatively. “I’ll say it’s handy having you around for one thing at least, Harry; Mum always pulls out all the stops for you.” Hermione elbowed him.
The air rapidly filled with the sound of spoons clattering on plates and talk and laughter, and as the twilight deepened, Hermione conjured up a constellation of hovering candles that lit up the whole garden with a cheerful flickering glow. But just as they were starting on the tart and the cake, the doorbell rang, its magically-enhanced chimes echoing out to the garden.
“I’ll see who it is,” said Percy, getting up. When he returned, it was with an odd expression on his face and two figures in summer cloaks following somewhat timidly behind. “Harry? Ginny?” he called.
It was Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy, the latter holding a large, elegantly-wrapped package, and with a carefully-neutral expression on his face.
“I’m sorry, I hope we’re not interrupting,” said Astoria. “We just came to pass over a package for Harry. Since we don’t know where he lives, we thought this was the next best place to look for him.”
This was the first time Harry had ever received a gift from Malfoy. He said eloquently, “Er.”
“It’s something of a thank-you from Daphne,” said Astoria. "She would have passed this over herself, but she's so very busy, now that she's doing the lion's share of the work for that pub, so she asked us to drop this off." Diplomatically, she took the package from Malfoy, and held it out to Harry with a charming smile.
Okay, now this was familiar ground. “I was just doing my job,” said Harry. “According to Ministry regulations, I’m not sure I can... ouch! I mean...”
“Well, maybe I can take that for you,” said Ginny, as she removed her foot from on top of Harry’s. “Thank you very much, Astoria.”
Mrs Weasley had come up behind them, and was hovering protectively behind Ginny. She shot a frown at Malfoy, which softened as Astoria said brightly, “Ah, you must be Mrs Weasley. Please excuse Draco and I for intruding on your party. You have a very lovely home,” she said sincerely, “and I’ve heard a lot about your garden from Draco’s aunt, Andromeda.”
Harry and Ginny exchanged glances, and waited for Mrs Weasley’s reaction.
“You’re as thin as Harry was when he first came here,” observed Mrs Weasley. “Come along, why don’t you join us? There’s plenty of the roast left, and we’ve only just started on the pudding.”
“I really shouldn’t,” said Astoria, but her eyes were shining as she took in the dinner scene in the garden. “Oh, maybe I will have a glass of juice,” she said, and she let Mrs Weasley put an arm around her and pilot her to the dinner tables.
Malfoy looked like a guard dog whose ward had been stolen very willingly from under his nose. He hesitated, then squared his shoulders, tucked Astoria’s cloak under his arm, and followed, hovering protectively as Mrs Weasley conjured up a chair and poured her a glass of pumpkin juice. Andromeda Tonks said hello to her niece, her eyes darting between Malfoy and the Weasleys; Mr Weasley and Bill looked a little nonplussed at the new arrivals; and George and Ron stared at Malfoy for a long moment with open hostility. It was Percy who drew up another chair for him, and wordlessly passed him a glass of wine, before launching loudly into a discussion with George about Class XXX creature import regulations.
Astoria, Mrs Weasley and Mrs Tonks chattered away, and very shortly afterwards, all three were crouching near the flowerbeds while Astoria burbled about dappled gazanias and shy lantanas. Malfoy sat silent, nursing his wine and watching over her. The other Weasleys decided to ignore him and the volume of conversation rose again to something approaching normal. Victoire and Teddy helped by getting into a rough tussle in the grass.
Comfortably stuffed with Mrs Weasley’s cooking, Harry leaned back in his chair, Ginny nestled under his arm, and rested his cheek on the top of her head. He closed his eyes and breathed deep and just let the sounds of family wash over him. After a while, he said, “Ginny, d’you remember that week’s holiday I promised?”
“What about it?”
“Well, whenever you can get time away from Gwenog, I’ve got Robards to approve it in principle. It’s just a matter of confirming the dates.”
Ginny did a little wriggle of happiness against him that ticked Harry’s pulse up a few notches. “Brilliant! I’ll clear it with Gwenog right away. I can’t wait!” Craning her head up to reach his ear, she whispered, “I’ll be sure to pack the bikini.”
His pulse went up a little bit more. Suddenly Harry felt another celebratory glass of wine might be in order.
After a while, George and Ron announced they were going to see to the special fireworks, and sidled off in the direction of the broom shed. Ginny went to play with Teddy and Victoire. Astoria came back to the table clutching a couple of cuttings in brown paper, clearing her throat; Malfoy immediately leapt for the jug and poured her a glass of pumpkin juice. The first firework soared into the sky and burst into a giant flapping Golden Snitch as Malfoy poured more wine for himself. He hesitated, then leaned over and refilled Harry’s glass as well.
Harry looked up, watching the expression on Draco’s face. What was he thinking? Did he understand what was happening here? The Draco Malfoy he had known in his schooldays would have sneered at the Burrow, the simple home-grown and home-cooked food, the well-used and careworn air of everything here...
Malfoy held up his glass a fraction. After a moment, Harry picked up his own glass and tilted it slightly in his direction.
“This is what I call a real birthday party,” Harry said.
Malfoy nodded, and it seemed to Harry that he did understand. “Many happy returns,” said Malfoy.
Well, Harry could drink to that.
So they did.
END