I'm just into reading the 7th book. xD

Here's a fic I did a few days ago. :D

Disclaimer : I don't own the characters.

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Having One

July thirty-first. Another birthday, this year, however, Harry Potter was turning 14. He had never looked forward to his birthdays, because he knew the Dursleys would never even look at him twice and greet him. For young, wizard-boy, Harry Potter, birthdays was like every other day of the year. It was quite normal for him; he was only keen on his friend's cards which meant more to him than anything the Dursleys had. He was starting to read through Ron's card, that slanting writing of the redhead made it quite hard for Harry to make out a few words.

He closed the card, tuck in the new book he had gotten from Ron, Quidditch through the Ages, and went off to read Hermione's card. He smiled, like always, when reading the cards he had received from his friends. As soon as he finished Hermione Granger's card, Harry felt something drop to the ground. He picked up the small piece of parchment which had fallen out of the book Ron had given him. It said that they would be taking him to the Quidditch World Cup in a few days time, feeling happy, Harry lay aside his presents as well as the cakes, and climbed up to bed.

He stared at the ceiling for a while, counting the cob webs and sighing as distant ruffling of wings could be heard from the outside. He turned around, lying on his side, he wasn't quite careful, though, because his forehead collided with the rickety bedside table. He rubbed at it and groaned, the impact seeping through him. He felt another thing drop, with a metallic flop, onto the table's surface. He picked it up, eyes partly closed as he rubbed at his forehead, ironically, he was rubbing at his scar – it did not sear of pain, but it was where the sharp edge of the bedside table had hit him...or he had hit. He still blamed the side-table.

Having the annoying pain subside, he pushed his glasses back up and heard the frame fall down again. With a sigh he picked it up and gazed at it for a while. A picture of his parents, Lily Potter and James Potter, smiling, and was beaming up at him in a black-and-white moving photograph. "Hi mum, hi dad." Harry greeted them, smiling at the photograph. He was going to put it onto its original place when something fell from the thin layered metal of the frame. He picked up the fallen, turned-over, picture and flipped it back up. He was going to slip it back up the original frame but stopped when he saw the soft and warm smile his mother wore in the photo. She was alone, hands folded in her lap. Harry could just picture out the beautiful red locks of his mother as well as her dazzling green eyes – his eyes.

She was looking straight at him, the warmth seeping through Harry...He could just feel how it'd have been like to have her look at him like that now. Her motherly love engulfing him so much, her tender and soft touches calming him down, her sweet good-night kisses easing his dreams, driving away the nightmares. He could just imagine how it would be like to have at least one parent with him. To have his beautiful mother, Lily Potter, cradling him in her arms...

He would've been treated right, not wrong like the Dursleys had treated him all these years.

He would've sunk into her embrace when he told her about the horrible boys at school, she wouldn't have taken it sitting down, she would've called Harry's school and demand for an explanation why such attitudes were being taught to the school and would then kiss Harry soothingly, patting his forehead.

He would've gone trick or treating with her...She would've sewn his costume or conjured it up by magic.

He would've been the happiest kid alive, the love of his mother with him always.

When his Hogwarts letter would come via-owl-post his mum would jump for joy and hug her little eleven year old boy, exclaiming that he'd be a great wizard, that he'd be brilliant in Hogwarts. That he'd excel, just like his father.

They would've gone to Diagon Alley together; there they would buy Harry's school things. There his mum would introduce him to acquaintances and good friends, there he would meet Ronald Weasley, shake his hand and grin at the redheaded boy who grinned back at him.

When it was finally September first, Lily and Harry would apparate – side-long apparate – together and arrive somewhere behind King's Cross, Harry's trunks and his beautiful snowy white owl named Hedwig on a trolley. His mother had bought the beautiful owl so that Harry could write to her often, and she to him.

When they would pass the barrier the widowed Lily Potter, married to now deceased James Potter, would hug Harry, tears of happiness falling down from her eyes. The boy in turn would hug his mother back, she would kiss his forehead where the same old scar was to be seen – his mother having survived the attack because of Harry, too – and would pat his hair, ruffling that untidy black mass. She would then dust off his robes, fixing his glasses and would kiss him on the cheek one last time. The eleven year old would then hug her at the middle, and leave, "Love ya, mum! I'll write to you soon!" And Lily Potter would wave back to him from outside the window, "I love you, darling! Have a great year and enjoy your stay at Hogwarts!" And then the train would leave, Harry would then be invited to sit with Ron Weasley where they were soon to befriend a muggle-born, Hermione Granger.

And on his twelfth year it would all be the same.

Harry could've been the happiest child alive if his mother was with him.

He could've spent his birthdays with her, his mum clapping her hands as her emerald green eyes shone with happiness. He would've had her with her today, she would've been snuggling him into her chest, greeting him a very great fourteenth birthday...

Harry closed his eyes, not bothering to remove his glasses. All the 'what if's' in his head if his mum were to be with him brought tears to his eyes. He smiled and rubbed at them. "Love you, mum," He whispered into his pillow, the beautiful photograph of his mother tucked into his pillow as he slowly closed his eyes.

Somewhere, sometime, the wind brought with it a distant sound, a soft voice like music, "Happy birthday, darling."

That same night Harry dreamt. A very beautiful dream it was, he was together with his mother. They were just sitting on the lake-side, enjoying each other's company.

"I love you, dear. Don't let anything get to you," His mum said in his dream, she hugged him and kissed his forehead before slowly walking into the lake, disappearing.

Somewhere in Harry's head he knew that the dream was more than what it seemed. He knew that his mother's love for him would surpass anything, even death. "I'll see you soon, mum." Harry whispered into the cold air, his dream now cold as the warmth had gone. In the depths of it all, having a mother would've given him a different view of life, it would've changed things.

But some things happen for the better... Harry thought, now falling into a dream where it was not only his mother with him, but his father and then slowly...Sirius appeared, accompanied by his best friends and all the people he longed for. No matter what, Harry Potter was never an unloved child.

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I should've stopped with the Happy Birthday, darling, but I didn't. Mehhh.

Oh well, Happy holidays!

I have this Drarry Christmas fic rolling but I can't finish it (too many distractions.) XD