And of course I forgive

I've seen how you live

Like a phoenix you rise from the ashes

You pick up the pieces

And the ghosts in the attic

They never quite leave

And of course I forgive

You've seen how I live

I've got darkness and fears to appease

My voices and analogies

Ambitions like ribbons

Worn bright on my sleeve

-Vienna Teng

Harry awoke early the next morning, feeling warm and irrationally content. His date with Draco, though rocky towards the start, had gone stupendously. They'd stayed up half the night talking, high off of too much coffee and too little food, and Harry couldn't help but feel that it was one of the best nights of the summer. He felt as if a gap between them had finally been bridged. For the first time since Harry had been cursed, they'd been able to sit and actually feel comfortable with each other. It was almost disconcerting how at ease Harry was able to feel with Draco's fingers intertwined with his own, considering the fact that just a couple of short months ago he would have loved nothing more than to smash Draco's teeth in. It made him wonder if maybe this was really all he'd wanted the whole time.

By the time 9AM rolled around, Harry had showered and changed shirts twice. Somewhere along the way he'd realized that he'd never had a birthday party before, and he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to wear. He briefly considered flooing Draco to ask his advice before deciding that Draco would garner far too much pleasure from Harry coming to him for his fashion expertise. Undoubtedly trolls would be brought up again, and Harry would end up in a three piece suit. Instead he decided on a fitted grey cotton shirt, and black jeans. Overall he thought he looked presentable, save for the untamable mop on top of his head.

With a pleased sigh, Harry tore himself away from the mirror and clopped unceremoniously down the stairs. Even in the muggy morning air, he felt light as a feather, like if he jumped high enough he might just end up floating away in the wind. By the time he'd apparated to the Burrow grounds, the broadness of his grin was starting to make his cheeks ache.

He crested the hill that would put him view of the house, and was pulled to an awestruck stop. Hoards of wild cheery trees surrounded the Burrow, their branches bursting with pale pink blooms that carried a soft, sweet scent on the breeze. Petals fell like drops of rain, turing into balloons as soon as they touched ground, and floating back up into the sky to disappear in the low-hanging clouds. Even from this distance Harry could read the inscription on each balloon that rose: HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!

Amidst the trees were scattered white tarps, each ordained with gold and red roses in the shape of the Gryffindor plaque. There was already a large group gathered under the largest tarp, and with an elated sigh, Harry made his way over to it.

Hagrid, being the only one that stood at least five heads above the rest of the crowd, was the first to notice him.

"'OI, IT'S 'ARRY!" the grounds-keeper boomed, a large smile stretching his heavily bearded face. "Happy birthday, 'Arry!"

The group all turned simultaneously, and Harry felt himself redden at the sudden attention. "Thanks, Hagrid. Hello, everyone. Thanks for coming."

Everyone seemed to rush to him at once, all smiles and hugs. There were so many voices he hardly knew who he was talking to. There was of course Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, George, Charlie, Bill, and Percy. McGonagall was there too, as well as a few other familiar teachers who all seemed intent on shaking his hand more than a few times. Seamus was there, and Dean as well: Susan Bones, the Patil twins, Cho Chang—even Angela and Oliver had managed to show up. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny however, were notably absent.

"Will everyone give the man some room?" George yelled, shooing off the inner circle. "It's not like you don't have all day!"

The group laughed, but they backed off nevertheless. Harry straightened his shirt and attempted to steady his breathing after the overwhelming greeting. "Thanks, George."

"No problem, Harry." George replied, clapping Harry on the back. "Happy birthday, by the way. Come into the store sometime, I'll give you your pick. Whatever you want."

Harry smiled. "Thanks."

"Oh, and," George's face fell ever so slightly, "sorry about Ron and Ginny not being here. I know Gin will come soon, but Ron…" he trailed off.

Harry shifted awkwardly, trying not to grimace at the thought that his best friend was still angry enough that he hadn't bothered to show up for his birthday. "It's alright, George. Really. He—er—already told me he had something to do today."

"You mean he's actually doing something up there?" George gazed up at the house, looking doubtful.

"It's just," Harry fumbled for a lie, hoping to at least save George the anguish, "not a good day for him."

George scrunched his freckled nose, and shrugged helplessly. "He'll get over it soon."

Harry nodded in what he hoped looked like an agreeable manner.

"Oh, and by the way, Percy told me to tell you that—"

"I said nothing of the sort, Harry!" Percy called from the other side of the tent.

George turned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I hadn't even said anything yet!"

"Well, whatever you were going to say, I'm quite sure that I never said it!"

"So you never said that Harry was a straight up good fellow with the courage and honor only a true Gryffindor could have?" George turned back to Harry, looking dramatically mellow. "I'm sorry mate, I guess Percy thinks you're a limey Slytherin."

"George!" Percy barked.

George gave Harry an ear-to-ear grin, and immediately bounded off to pounce on Percy, leaving Harry lingering over thoughts about Slytherins. It was almost pathetic, how easily his mind was directed towards Draco. Harry vaguely wondered what he was doing right now. He wondered if Draco was thinking the same thing about him.

"Happy day of birth, Harry," came a wispy voice from behind.

Harry jumped and spun. "Luna! Merlin you startled me! And," he chuckled despite himself, "Neville, you came too!" The two stood in front of him, hand in hand; Luna looking her usual airy self, and Neville looking red-faced and unabashedly happy.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Neville said quietly, offering a small smile.

"So you two are—er…" Harry nodded down at their joined hands.

Neville beamed, his cheeks flushing to an even deeper shade of red. "Oh, yeah," he chuckled. "Have been for a couple months now."

"That's wonderful!"

Luna tossed her long blonde hair, causing her earrings to jingle like chimes in the wind. She reached in her pocket and brought out a small star shaped keychain. "Here," she said, handing him the keychain. "Neville and I made you this. It's made from the wood of a Lightwood tree—my father and I have been growing one since my mother died. If you carry it with you it will help you find the things that you lost."

Harry's lips curled slightly as he fingered the smooth, golden wood. "Thanks, both of you. I could actually really use something like this—you know how I tend to leave things around."

"We do know," Luna replied quickly, winking. "Have you gotten your real gift yet?"

Harry cocked his head.

Luna seemed almost annoyed that he didn't understand. Her blue eyes were sharp as she looked at him. "The gift that touches your heart."

"Er—uh," Harry stammered, not knowing what to say. His mind drifted back to last night, and warm, velvety lips kneading tenderly against his own. He flushed and dropped his gaze to the ground. "I'm not really sure."

"I'm sure it will come soon." Luna nodded.

Neville laughed and nudged at Luna's shoulder. "Right, well, I think we are going to go grab some food from the buffet. See you around, Harry."

"Harry," Luna leaned forward, refusing to be lead off. "I just wanted you to know that Ginny's gone."

Harry blinked at her. "Gone? I—George said that she was inside."

"In the house?"

Harry open and closed his mouth several times, confused. "Um, well, yes I think so."

Luna's light eyes flickered between the house and Harry, and after a long moment she nodded. "Don't let her go, Harry."

"Go where?"

Neville tugged at the Ravenclaw's hand. "Sorry, Harry, she been doing a lot of tarot card reading lately."

Luna turned to glare at her boyfriend, as if he'd just insulted her in some unforgivable way. "Professor Trelawney gave them to me."

Neville smiled fondly at Luna's unveiled expression. "Come on, let's go get some punch."

With one last glance at Harry, Luna allowed herself to be pulled away.

Harry bid the two farewell, and tucked the keychain in his pocket for safekeeping. With a deep breath he turned, preparing himself for the onslaught of small talk. It was going to be a long day.

After only a few hours, Harry's voice was starting to get scratchy and his shoulders were beginning to ache from all of the bear hugs Hagrid kept surprising him with. He was more than thankful when Mrs. Weasley finally emerged with a humungous birthday cake magically floating in front of her, effectively distracting everyone. Mr. Weasley had to extend the width of the doorframe just to get it through, much to George's amusement and everyone else's awe.

George leaned over to whisper in Harry's ear. "She spent the last two days baking that thing. All by hand too. Nearly drove us all crazy with it."

"Wow," was the only thing Harry could think to say. He could not believe that anybody would go through such trouble, and all for a stupid birthday. A soft warmth swelled in his chest as Mrs. Weasley placed the cake on the center of a round table, absolutely beaming.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she called, and the buzz of the crowd instantly died. "I would like to thank you all for coming out today, and I know that Harry thanks you too." Harry reddened once more as all eyes turned on him. "I'm sure everyone here knows what a long journey it has been for all of us, and I'm sure you all know that without Harry, none of us would've ever made it through. Many of you, like myself, have known Harry since he first came to the wizarding world, and I know that all of you must be as proud as I am to have seen him grow into such a fine young wizard. We'd all have been lost without you, Harry. So, on behalf of everyone who's here and everyone who's not, I would like to wish you a very—"

"Happy birthday," came a silken voice. Harry's gaze shifted to see Ginny Weasley round the table to appear beside her parents, holding a glass of champagne up in the air.

"Happy birthday!" the crowd echoed, toasting their own glasses of champagne before rushing forward to nab a slice of cake.

Harry's eyes remained locked with Ginny's as she pushed her way towards him. She was wearing a pale pink dress that Harry recognized as one of his old favorites on her, but she somehow didn't look herself in it. She came to a stop just in front of him, her smile drawn like a knife cut into flesh.

"Hello, Harry," Ginny purred. "Very sorry I'm so late."

Harry shifted his weight, feeling strangely uneasy. "It's alright. How are you?"

"Never better actually. Summer is finally coming to an end. I think everyone's ready for it to be over, don't you?"

"I suppose it will be nice to be back at Hogwarts."

"Ah, right," Ginny said, nodding and taking a drink of champagne. "Ron and Hermione got a letter from McGonagall about the seminars that they're offering for your year."

Harry's attention perked. "Did they…say if they were going to do them?"

"Hermione practically foamed at the mouth over it, and of course she's making Ron go. I think he's finally rid himself of the delusion that he can live off the fame of being your best friend."

The sting of the words was overwhelmingly sharp. Harry took a bewildered step backwards, fighting away the tight burning in the back of his throat. "Where is Hermione anyway?" he asked.

Ginny shrugged, taking another long drink. "She left early this morning. I'm not sure where she went. It's really rather rude of her to miss your party though, isn't it? I mean, she's not the one you had the fight with."

A deep grimace pulled at the corners of Harry's mouth. Was Ginny drunk?

"Ginny!" Luna suddenly appeared right next to them, eyes bright and a large slice of cake balanced precariously on the plate in her hand. "You're here!" Neville appeared at her side a moment later, grinning and waving at Ginny.

Ginny's head turned, her eyes going blank. She stared at the pair for a long moment before muttering a clipped, "Hello."

"Where have you been?" Luna asked. "Neville and I owled you several times after we read about the attack on the Burrow in the Prophet. We were so worried…"

"Well as you can see, I'm perfectly fine," Ginny replied, and something in her voice made Neville's smile fall.

Luna's blue eyes gave a sharp flash of anguish. "Why didn't you write back?"

Ginny seemed oddly off-put by the question. Harry watched a muscle in her jaw work, the freckles of her nose washing out against a backdrop of red. "I haven't been able to find the time."

"Ginny—"

"If you hadn't noticed, Harry and I were having a conversation," Ginny said, her voice all ice. "You're interrupting."

Luna looked at her like she'd just swallowed a toad, while Neville went stiff as a board. The piece of cake on Luna's plate toppled and fell onto her shoes.

Ginny stared down at it, finishing off the last of her glass. "You'd best attend to that." It was an obvious dismissal.

Tears gathering in her eyes, Luna dashed off. With a torn, ragged look at Harry, Neville took off after her, the pair of them disappearing into the crowd.

"Ginny," Harry admonished, though his voice couldn't quite mask his surprise with anger.

"What?" Ginny looked back up at him with with wide, innocent eyes.

"That was…" Harry struggled, "an unspeakably cruel way to talk to your best friends. What's gotten into you?"

Ginny shrugged, went to drink again from her glass, and then looked profoundly disappointed to find it empty. She tipped the glass over, and watched the last droplets drain out onto the grass. "I don't know what you mean."

"Ginny…"

She threw the glass to the ground. "I have a gift for you," she said, grinning. "Would you like it now?"

Harry's face creased, but he didn't respond.

"Later then?"

"Ginny, what's going on with you?"

"Oh, Harry," Ginny smirked at him. "Since when are you so picky about the way best friends are treated? I think we've already established that you aren't getting on with yours very well."

Harry shook his head. "That's different."

"Is it?" She even feign believing him. "You know, Hermione left rather suddenly a couple of nights ago, and when she came back she was in quite a state. When she talked to Ron about it, I heard your name thrown around a few times." Her smile grew decayed around the edges. "Malfoy's too. And something about the Elder Wand?"

Heart beating a little faster, Harry responded, "Oh?"

"Did you tell Malfoy where it is?" Ginny sounded curious, and somehow predatory.

For some reason, that hadn't been quite what Harry was expecting. The question put him on edge, grating against his nerves like the edge of a razor.

"I thought you, Ron and Hermione agreed not to," she continued when her need to speak had overcome her patience. "I thought you'd said that you wouldn't tell anyone. You even put spells on each other, didn't you? To ensure that no one could ever find out?"

"Did…did Hermione tell you that?"

Ginny nodded, her pale face glowing in the light of the sun.

Harry pursed his lips. "Well she shouldn't have."

"So you can tell Malfoy where that wand is, but she can't tell me about the spells you use to protect it? How did you tell him anyway, if you're not supposed to be able to speak the location aloud?"

"I didn't tell him, I showed him," Harry's voice was beginning to rise with his temper. "And stop trying to throw around accusations when you know nothing about it! I wouldn't have shown him the wand if I didn't have to!"

At that point, Ginny's lips stretched into a wide, thin line. It made something in Harry's throat catch.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," she shook her head. A soft wind stirred and stroked through her dark locks, blowing them across her face. "It's not very often that…"

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I don't want to fight with you, Harry. It's your birthday after all."

Harry stared at her, feeling like a stone had dropped in his stomach. "It's alright…just…you really should apologize to Luna and Neville."

"Right. Of course. I will."

"Oi! Harry!" Harry turned to see George not standing too far off, holding a large dome shaped cloth-covered package by the handle in one hand and a parcel in the other. "This just came for you. Letter says it's from Malfoy."

Harry heard Ginny chuckle at his side. "I'll see you later, Harry." And with that, she marched off, following her mother into the house.

George made his way towards Harry, looking unusually glum. Once he was within proper speaking distance, his expression darkened into a scowl. "Sorry about her," he set the bundle down at Harry's feet. "None of us know what's wrong. Ever since she came back from St. Mungo's she just been…anyway." He handed Harry the letter and made a feeble attempt to smile. "Come over and have some cake soon, alright?"

Harry took the parchment with a nod. "I will."

George turned and left Harry alone with Draco's letter in his hand. Carefully, lowered himself down to the grass. He eyed over the letter, barely noticing the smile that pulled insistently at his lips.

Dear Harry,

As you can imagine, I have an extraordinary talent for buying things, specializing in, of course, gifts (whether they are for myself or not is beside the point). But I have come to the recent discovery that I am only good at this because I have a keen knowledge of what people want. But you, Harry (being the non-materialistic prat that you are), are seemingly in want of nothing. Oh sure, there are things that you need—a comb and some hair potions for instance—but I've never been much for novelty gifts. I briefly considered buying you a broom, but I then figured that's something you'd prefer to pick you yourself. And I did have to get you something, Harry. And no, you barmy twit, a date does not count as a real gift!

And then it struck me—oh and I can't believe I didn't think of it before! I'm brilliant you know, and consider yourself lucky, because beauty and brains aren't normally a pair. I had almost forgotten, you see, it all happened so long ago.

During my fourth year at Hogwarts, my father gave me permission to keep my Eagle Owl, Markwood, at Hogwarts. I was, needless to say, elated (a good bird is often a better—if not a more stimulating—companion than most people in my opinion). I visited him in the owlry frequently early in the year, to see how he was getting along with the other birds.

Much to my approval, Markwood detested your owl. I of course, being the cute, incorrigible child that I was, encouraged their hostile behavior towards one another. But, at one point in the year, sometime right at the beginning of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, your owl became even more aggressive. She was angry because of something I suppose.

Harry grimaced, remembering his fight with Hedwig.

Well one day I walk into the owlry, and what do I find? Your owl forcing herself on my poor Markwood(the little minx!)! I fled immediately, not knowing what to do. I didn't go back for weeks after that, and every time Markwood would deliver my mail I could tell that something was up. Pretty soon he stopped delivering my mail all together (he got some other poor owl to do it—very Slytherin of him, don't you think?).

I went to the owlry soon after to check on him, and found him sitting on a nest. Odd, I thought. He resisted but I finally shooed him off of it. And there, lying in the center of the nest, were two eggs.

Harry's hands began shaking so badly that he dropped the letter. He scrambled to pick it up again, his eyes scourging the parchment. No. He eyed the package. It couldn't be.

I was so mad, I destroyed one of the eggs immediately, and would've destroyed the other had not the owls made such a fuss about the first. I managed to escape with it tucked in my robes. I was about to smash it when a thought came upon me. There was no doubt in my mind that this egg was the offspring of your owl. I finally had something to hold over you—something I had never had before.

So I kept the egg, and allowed it to hatch in the safety of my room. It was sheer will and luck that I kept the thing alive, but I don't remember ever being so thrilled in my life.

I named her Atheria. I taught her to hunt, and carry a parcel, along with everything else. Over time, I knew that the plan had grown sour. I knew I had grown too attached. So when the time came down to it, I couldn't use her against you. I figured that her life wasn't worth the waste.

Harry's breath was coming in long hard pants. Hedwig…had a daughter?

You told me, not too long ago, that your owl was killed, and I want you to know that, for what it's worth, I'm very sorry for your loss. But I figured, that if you can't have Hedwig, then her daughter is the next best thing, right?

~D.M.

"I can't…" Harry breathed in disbelief. He sprung towards the package, his free hand ripping off the cloth. There was the sound of rattling metal, accompanied by the indignant hoot of a ruffled bird. There she sat, in a cage perched on a wooden branch—Atheria. Silent tears slipped down Harry's cheeks before he had even noticed them form. She was magnificent. She was larger than Hedwig had been, with sharp white wings that faded to a golden brown in the tips. But she had the same snowy round face, and the same piercing golden eyes.

The two locked gazes. Atheria, hooted softly and clacked her beak, while Harry merely stared, wide eyed and slack jawed.

Harry was so entranced that he did not even notice the approaching figure at his front. Hagrid's deep rough voice pulled him from his stare. "That's a mighty fine bird you got there, 'Arry! Mixed breed is it? Who's it from?"

"It's from…it's from…" Harry's tongue failed him. He unlocked the cage and opened its door. Atheria hopped from her perch, to the ground, and onto Harry's leg, all the while staring up at him with bright, knowing eyes. She hooted once more, and Harry smiled, fondly stroking her head as if they had been friends for years. She offered her leg out to him, and for the first time, Harry noticed a small note tied to it.

With shaky hands he untied it and smoothed it out between his fingers. It was another note from Draco.

I'll be at your place at sundown. Meet me there.

Harry's head jerked to the west. Already the sun was beginning to dip into the trees. He only had an hour, perhaps a little less. His heart suddenly began to pound in his chest. He held out his arm to Atheria, which she instantly hopped up onto. Her talons broke flesh but he hardly cared. "Hagrid," Harry said breathlessly, holding the owl out to him, "take care of her will you? I'll be right back."

Hagrid took the bird, obviously flustered. "'Arry—where 'ya goin? Is something wrong?"

Harry plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled out his wand. He began walking towards the edge of the tent, his heart flying up into his throat.. "Nothing's wrong. Tell Mrs. Weasley and everyone else that I'll be back for some of that cake."

"'Arry?"

The Gryffindor pressed his eyes closed and felt the world around him give a sudden lurch. The last thing he heard before the sound of roaring wind took his ears was Hagrid's voice yelling after him.