Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: A one-shot to commemorate Harry's 30th birthday (so it's a little late). As usual, posted over on my LJ.

Memories

by Naranne

"Dad! Happy birthday, dad!"

A five-year-old missile launched itself at the bed, and Harry groaned as his oldest son collided with his side, paying absolutely no heed to the fact that his father was evidently trying to sleep. Seconds later small, warm hands shook him by the shoulder, the bed dipping as another body climbed up. It occurred faintly to Harry that there was a decided amount of free space where his wife should still have been lying; however, thought was currently entirely too much effort, and with a muffled grunt, he buried his head in the pillow.

"Daddy, wake up!"

There was a snort of derision. "Daddy?"

That would be James, then. Apparently, at five years of age he was far too old to be calling his father daddy. And the mumbled protest would belong to Albus, who, at the ripe age of four, had no such qualms. The thought crossed his mind that he should probably chastise his son for mocking his younger brother, but the only words his lips seemed to be capable of forming were, "Five more minutes..."

"But you said that nearly half an hour ago!"

Gentle laughter from the doorway – unmistakeably Ginny. Come back to bed, Harry wanted to say; kids, let your parents sleep. "James, don't tease your brother, it's not nice." A dazzlingly bright light forced its way across his vision, through gaps left by the pillow and his arms. He could practically hear his wife's smirk in her next words. "Nicely done with the curtains, Albus—ow! Lily, Mummy's hair is not a toy!"

The two-year-old giggled mischievously.

Harry rolled over, resigned to his fate. Opening his eyes a crack, he grinned as the blurry outline of his daughter pointed her finger imperiously at him and commanded, "Get up."

Glasses, need my—

As soon as he had seen his father's eyes open, James had leapt from the bed, grabbing the aforementioned glasses from the bedside table. However, Harry's thanks died in his throat as the eye-wear was unceremoniously forced onto his face, where they sat, askew, after having narrowly avoided taking out one of their owner's eyes. He scowled as Ginny stifled a laugh behind one of her hands, but was unable to stop his own laugh as James proceeded to perch beside his father on the bed and, with an expression of utmost seriousness, straighten the glasses he had so abruptly decided Harry should be wearing now that he was awake.

"Harry," Ginny started, shifting Lily in her arms, "they're right, you know. You really should be getting up, birthday boy."

"'S time?" he mumbled in response, rubbing away the sleep with one hand.

"Nearly ten-thirty," his wife replied. "Teddy and Andromeda will be here soon."

"Nearly ten-thirty!" Harry cried. "Why'd you let me sleep so long, then?"

The somewhat superior glint to her eyes and the small grin dancing about her lips informed him that she would most enjoy seeing him rush around and try to make himself presentable, even if the guests were practically family. Apparently, the fact that it was his birthday did not prevent the mischief-maker in her from having a laugh at his expense. Ginny moved over to the side of the bed and ruffled his hair with her free hand.

"Well, it's your birthday, isn't it?"

Even after twelve years, the resemblance between Teddy Lupin and his father still managed to shock Harry – it was not until Teddy's mood took a sudden change (and consequently, so did his hair), or he stumbled spectacularly over something or someone, that his eyes twinkled, he grinned widely, and he began to look like both of his parents, rather than like a twelve-year-old Remus. However, once the conversation started up, with Teddy seated at their dining table – as was so often the case – it was impossible to see the boy for anyone other than himself, even though the resemblance to his late parents was uncanny at times.

Much as Ginny had foreseen as Harry had sleepily lain abed, Teddy and his grandmother, Andromeda Tonks, had arrived at precisely quarter to eleven – as it was Harry's birthday, he and Ginny had invited Teddy and Andromeda for a small lunch, before the large, full-scale dinner to be had at the Burrow that night. Ron and Hermione would be arriving mid-afternoon, as Rose had fallen sick the night before, and her stomach was still feeling a little sore, so she was recovering in bed – nearly as soon as Harry had made it into the lounge-room, Ron's head had appeared in the fireplace and apologised for not being able to make it.

The meal had been enjoyable, though, for all it was a small gathering; Harry was almost grateful for the small numbers, as he would be dining with the entire Weasley family that night, in addition to Neville, Luna and Hagrid. As much as he was fond of every one of them, by pure numbers such an event always grew immensely loud. Now, however, their three young children were positively quivering with excitement as Teddy pulled from his bag a square, simply wrapped present which dropped with a pleasant weight into Harry's hands, outstretched at his godson's request. In part to amuse the youngsters and in part to amuse the kid that he was at heart, Harry shook the present gently, before placing it on the table and accepting his card with a slightly sheepish grin.

Teddy had clearly made the card himself, yet it was signed at the bottom by his grandmother as well, who placed a hand on the young Lupin's shoulder and smiled at Harry as he read the simple but heartfelt message through. Pushing his chair back, Harry walked over to the mantelpiece, placing the card carefully beside the one he had already received from his family. The fronts of both cards were bright and jovial – one of the things that Harry loved most about his family was that no matter how old they got, he knew they would never lose the ability to have fun – and Harry spent a moment adjusting the new arrival as per the instructions called to him amid giggles and laughter from those still seated. Once he had been assured that things looked just right, he took his place at the table and evaluated how best to approach opening the present.

He guessed from the size that it might be a medium sized book – with a wide cover, perhaps, but not very thick. Then again, it was a little too heavy for that, and Teddy was not really the sort of person who gave books as presents – unless it was to Rose or Hermione, of course. The paper was patterned all over – the background was a matte silver, with the swirls running across it done in a brighter, shiny silver – and he decided against tearing it, thinking that perhaps Lily could entertain herself with it in one of her inevitable craft creations.

Laughing at the impatient sounds coming from Lily and James, he caught their eyes with a look of his own and, with exaggerated slowness, unstuck the first bit of tape with his thumb, sticking it carefully to the underside of the paper. Albus, though he had leaned forward in his seat, was not quite as vocal about his impatience to see what was inside the wrapping paper. There was a snort of laughter, and Harry didn't need to look to know that Ginny was rolling her eyes at his teasing of their children. The next piece of tape followed in much the same manner, until Harry finally caved to the threat of impatient, temperamental brother and sister and proceeded to quickly and efficiently unwrap the remainder.

The mystery unravelled, James, Lily, and Albus sat back in their seats, now watching with curiosity alone rather than curious impatience. He was right in that it had felt a little too heavy to be a book. It was a photo frame, lying face-down on the table – even without seeing the front of it, he could tell it was finely made. It appeared from the edges to be silver-plated, with leaves twining about the corners – somewhat ornate, yet tasteful and understated at the same time. Already, a dozen suggestions for what photo to place inside were buzzing through his mind.

"Wow, thanks, guys," Harry beamed, looking from Teddy to Andromeda.

Teddy accepted the thanks, but added, "Turn it over." There was an edge of anticipation to his voice that made Harry curious, and he did as he was bade.

He flipped the frame carefully over, holding it slightly aloft; as he did so, he noticed with some surprise that it had already been filled, catching a glimpse of the edge of the photo. However, when he had the photo facing him, Harry found his breath catching in his throat. His eyes misted over slightly. "How did you—?"

"Grandma found it," Teddy supplied. "I hadn't seen it before, and I wasn't sure if you would have, either."

Harry hadn't.

Waving up at him from the photograph, cheerful grins plastered on their faces and looking as if they couldn't be happier, were four people he would recognise anywhere. It was winter, there; snow floated gently down from an unseen sky, catching in their hair and dotting their clothes with small white flakes. On the far left was his mother, her long, red hair let loose and lifting up slightly with the breeze – as he watched, transfixed, she reached up a gloved hand to tug a strand away from her face. On her right was his father, his arm around Lily's waist and a cheeky grin fixed permanently beneath his bespectacled, mischievous eyes. His hair was unruly, dishevelled, and it stuck up everywhere – it looked like Harry's own. Blinking rapidly, Harry looked from his mother to his father, and touched the photograph gently. Unable to help himself, he tore his eyes away from his parents and felt a grin stretch across his face as a young, care-free Sirius Black raised an eye-brow at him from the photo. He looked healthy, jubilant; there was an unmistakable glint to his eyes that spoke of mischief-making and shared laughter with those were friends close enough to be family. As Harry watched, he winked, grinned and then suddenly shoved himself into the person standing to his right, who stumbled. The young Remus Lupin laughed and righted himself, and then pushed Sirius right back. Scars still marred the face of Teddy's father, but there were none of the emotional burdens that had weighed down on Lupin in the last years of his life. This Remus, like Sirius beside him, was young, extraordinarily happy, and full of life. Brushing some snow from his scarf, Remus elbowed Sirius in the side and then grinned at Harry.

Harry had to do a double take.

Remus's scarf was red and gold. Red and gold. They were still at Hogwarts. It was only then that Harry noticed the shirt collar peeking out from his father's black robes – the same robes as the other three people in the moving photograph – the red of his mother's gloves, the hint of a tie around Sirius's neck. Harry had to swallow a lump in his throat.

"Do you like it?" Teddy's voice broke Harry out of his reverie, and Harry blinked, the smile on his lips at the same time full of wonder and yet tinged with sadness – he had never seen a photo of them together, at Hogwarts, before. From the absence of Pettigrew in the photo, Harry assumed he was the one to have taken it, and he pushed down a small surge of anger. It was in the past, and he could not change it, however much he would like to. It was enough, now to be able to have these mementos – he chuckled softly as he reminded himself that at least wizard photos moved.

Looking up, he met his godson's eyes. "Yeah, I do. A lot." Harry found himself having to clear his throat. "Thanks, Teddy."

Teddy answered with a smile. "There was another one, of just my dad and Sirius. But this one had your parents in it, too, so I thought we should frame it and give it to you."

"I'm glad you did," Harry replied with genuine gratefulness.

Standing up, he placed the frame carefully on the shelf beside photos of his own family – he and Ginny on their wedding day, the two of them with James, Albus and Lily – with a kind of reverence. As he took a step back, he felt Ginny place a hand on his shoulder. He hadn't heard her move up next to him; all his attention had been wrapped up in the four people in the photo, a glimpse into an era that he would never hear tales of.

"They're here with us now," she murmured.

"Yeah," Harry said softly. "Yeah, they are."

As Harry glanced from the photo to Ginny and their family and back again, the seventeen-year-old James Potter answered his son's radiant smile with one of his own.

A/N: Thanks for reading.

Until next time,

Naranne.