Harry felt shaking as he was roused from his sleep, squinting his eyes to see the room he knew to now be Rowan's at Grimmauld Place, their home for the past several weeks. The only light in the room came from the dying fire, sending a comforting aroma of firewood and a light crackling. In the air, he heard muffled sobs. Grabbing his glasses and looking at his side, Rowan had her back turned to him, her shoulders trembling and heaving. He rolled on his side, pulling her against his chest.

She jolted against him, sniffling, surprised by his waking.

"You alright, love?" Harry asked, voice heavy with sleep, knowing the answer already.

The sound of hiccupped sobbing filled the room and he held her as tight as he could without hurting her.

"'S not fair," she murmured, "I want her back."

"I know, Ro, I know you do," Harry comforted, gently drifting his fingers down her arm, tracing the gooseflesh that had formed itself there.

"I'm here for you," Harry comforted, "let it out."

The sobs picked up again, Harry lightly nuzzled her ear and any skin he could reach, whispering comforting words as lightly as he could. She was a piece of fine porcelain in his hands right now, so easily breakable. Later this morning, they would hold a funeral for Aurelia, it would be Rowan's chance to say goodbye. The same day as Harry's 16th birthday. She had a rough night at Grimmauld Place, zoning out during dinner and burning herself while cooking Harry's birthday dinner with Remus, before trying to hold it together at the table and having to retire early to her bed, or their bed as it had become lately. Harry glanced up at the canopied frame, kicking himself as his own survivor's guilt began to flare, feeling irreparably responsible for the pain she was feeling. It should've been him. He would never voice that though. The last time he had said that to her, she launched herself across a table at him, holding his face in her hands, and demanding that he take it back and never speak those words again.

She and Remus had grown close in the last few weeks, the younger witch helping him label stores of potion ingredients for the house apothecary and picking his brain for any more information she could absorb from him. The older, worn, and frayed lycanthrope had taken kindly to her presence, mentoring her and aiming to distract her from the agony that plagued her. Sirius was often good at that too, jesting at her or Harry or Kreacher in a manner that would lighten the tension pulled across her face. Tonks had quickly taken a liking to her, helping her while she recovered and the pair of them throwing jabs at the men of the house. It seemed she was hard not to love. They were a band of misfits, aiming to patch up each other's wounds and form some semblance of hope and protection as they could.

Rowan rolled over on her back, looking up at Harry, who reached down and wiped away the tear streaks, confining her in as his hand stroked her face, supporting his weight on his left arm. The silence brought the sound of the cracking wood of the fire, the settling of the house, and disembodied snores. Harry smoothed his hand down her shoulder, fingers adjusting the twisted strap of her nightdress. Her fingers reached up to trace the outline of his collarbones, the bare skin warm, pale, and seemingly glowing with the dying firelight. Their eyes memorized each other's faces in the low amber hum of the room, and Harry closed the gap, leaning down to drive his lips against the pillows of her lips.

"Happy birthday, Harry," she murmured, "I love you so much."

"We're the same age now, huh, getting a bit old," he teased, trying to coax a lightness to her.

"I'm an old weepy woman apparently, sorry," She murmured, feeling guilty for crying in the early hours of the morning and spending his birthday dinner upset.

"No apologies, ever. I love you too."

He seized her lips again, his arms framing her in as she coiled around him, her hands looping around his torso, fingers anchored in his broad shoulder blades, feeling the sinewy muscle threaded underneath. Her legs slid up past his plaid pajama pants, resting around his ribcage and he splayed himself between them, deepening the kiss.

"Do you…?" She asked, breaking the contact and boring into his eyes.

"You mean, you want to?" He asked, with her nodding as she bit her lip.

"Are you absolutely sure, Rowan? We can wait until another time; I know you've had a rough go of it as of late."

"I'm positive, Harry. There's nothing and no one else I want more."

"Have you taken the potion?"

"Yes, I had a feeling this was on the horizon, took it last week. It lasts six months, we are all sorted."

He nodded nervously, breath hitching, "If anything upsets you, or is even remotely uncomfortable, you tell me at once and I will stop, love."

The Slytherin returned his panicky nodding, his lips crushing hers again. His hands skimmed her sides, bundling the cotton of the dress in his hand, pulling it above her stomach, slightly shaking. He was running on pure instinct and trying to remember the things that Fred and George and the older Gryffindor boys had said that girls liked while taking inventory of the reactions he had gotten from Rowan in the past. Her hands were running down his back and anchoring them together. Hesitantly, he pushed their hips together, the pair of them gasping at the contact, which he began repeatedly doing, rocking slowly against her.

His lips found her throat, the motion sending her arching into his arms, trailing open mouthed kisses in a circuit from her behind her ear to her shoulder, sucking gently on the flesh of her neck, her light gasps tickling his ear. He felt as though he were lit on fire, every cell of his frame hyper aware of where it met her skin. His eyes kept flickering to hers, making sure her expression remained blissed and enthusiastic. He pulled back, his hands having found the bottom of the nightgown again, looking at her for permission to pull it from her willowy frame, being met with a nod and blown pupils.

Harry's eyes widened as the orange light refracted from her bare chest, the gown being thrown somewhere to the side of the room.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, capturing her lips again and letting his hands delicately explore the new skin, "This alright, love?"

She smiled against his lips nodding, reaching down and pulling at the pajama pants that hung low on his hips, which he quickly broke away to shrug off, now bare against her. He rested his head against her chest, breathing heavily as he began to cover her torso in hurried kisses, his hands cradling her breasts. Meeting her lips again, he slid his hand down her stomach, their eyes fastening as his fingers dipped below her underwear. He softly explored the skin, her mouth opening and gasping, hips snapping against his hand. He found the spot everyone had talked about hitting, proud when her gasps turned to light cries.

"Sweetheart, we have to be quiet," he reminded her, panting out the warning.

She nodded, his lips swarming hers again, drowning out the sound as he quickened his pace. He knew this would be easier for her if she were to finish first, at least that's what one of the older girls had interjected when George was lewdly boasting about a corridor hookup. Harry beamed when Rowan shuddered a few moments later, mewling into his mouth, knowing he had succeeded. It was the most amazing sight Harry had seen, and he knew he would never tire of it. He pulled the fabric trapping his hand down and tossed it away from them, locking eyes with her.

"Do you feel ready?" He asked, relaxing back on his haunches.

"Always," She said, watching every move he made.

He leaned forward over her, noses bumping, causing them to laugh, nervous energy spilling over the two young wizards.

"I love you," she said, capturing his lips.

"I love you too, my beautiful girl," he murmured, pushing forward into her.

They both stilled, eyes winding across the face of the other, Harry pushing more, his jaw going lax at the contact, a small whine spilling out. He waited for the tension to evaporate from her expression before moving an inch more. They began climbing the hill together, hands grasping for any grip they could find. Harry twisted up, pulling the witch into his lap, guiding her with a muscled arm around her shoulder and one around her hip, rocking together, the mattress protesting slightly under their movement. The pace continued to build, the couple clinging to each other and whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears, Harry's hand hesitantly darting between them as he had before. Rowan buried her head in his shoulder, biting the skin there, gasping his name in a hushed whisper. Harry felt the coil snap, the shaking of their joined bodies, and the release, grunting Rowan's name in response as he languidly wound them down, laying them both back down against the sheets, white light clouding their vision.

Dark onyx sought his olive eyes and they both began laughing lightly, breathing heavily, and feeling absolutely tuckered out, Rowan curling into his chest.

He hummed, pressing his lips to her temple.

"How was that?" He breathed, apprehensively.

"Perfect," She said, brushing his jaw, "there's only one problem."

He furrowed his brow, looking at her confusedly.

"Why would we ever stop?"

He chuckled, kissing her head yet again.

"Thank you, Harry, Happy Birthday."

"What a present that was," he laughed, "don't think that'll get topped."

"We should rinse off and use the loo," she said, pecking his torso.

He whined, "I want to stay here."

"Enjoy being by your lonesome," she spoke, easing off him and swaying her hips to the en suite bathroom. He leapt up and followed her into the small room.

After a scalding shower, the pair collected their laundry, changed the sheets on the bed, calling a sneering Kreacher to handle the washing, and re-dressed for bed. Rowan felt better, but the aching dread of the upcoming day began to fill her mind. Harry noticed, quietly rubbing her back, running his fingers through her damp curls, which had been growing out and tickling their joined shoulders, threading one around his finger, and holding her close until the tiredness gave way to a dreamless sleep for both.

Later in the morning, Harry sat on the bed in his black dress robes, watching her pin her hair up into a coiffed manner, curls twisting and turning around the black pearl hairpins, resting in a chignon. She spattered makeup across her face with a brush, covering the light freckles he loved to look at, taking care that she fluffed her lashes with mascara. Harry turned to shut the door as she slid her sleep clothes off and the undergarments and the black lace midi dress on.

"Zip me?" She asked, tensely toned and stress evident.

"Of course, Ro," He delicately replied, resting his hand on the small of her back while pulling the zipper up, concealing the milky skin he had become familiar with hours prior. He shook the thought from his head, focusing instead on the grieving woman in front of him. He slid his arm around her shoulder, turning her toward him, pecking her cheek. She pecked his cheek back and broke the embrace, shaky hands twisting in his blazer before letting it fall.

"You look lovely."

She nodded gently and leaned over her trunk, pulling out the emerald necklace her mother had given her for Christmas, wrapping the silver and emerald snake around her neck.

"Let's go get you your coffee, love." Harry suggested, placing his hand on the small of her back again as she spritzed a splash of the light citrus perfume on her wrist, feet propped in heels.

Rowan hadn't spoken much the whole morning, a pit forming in Harry's stomach. He feared she was upset with him about the actions of the night before. Had he misread the situation? He was stupid to engage in affections with her after holding her crying form. He should've considered she was probably not in the clearest of headspaces, he should've stopped it. He tried to talk himself down, assuring himself she was preparing to bury her mother today. Rowan had a stony mask that slid into place when she was publicly upset, especially around strangers. Her training and etiquette was still pure-blooded, no crinkling of the eyes or tears could be seen by the outside audience, even at an event like a funeral.

He turned before opening the bedroom door for her, "I know today is going to be difficult for you, I'm here for you. I won't leave your side. You let me know of anything you need, and you will have it. I love you."

Her eyes swam with emotion, "I love you too, Harry."

He released a breath he didn't know he was holding, escorting the witch down the abyss of stairs where Remus, Tonks, and Sirius were, dressed and chatting silently amongst themselves. Harry panicked, could they tell the couple had changed? What if they had heard? He shut the panic off, knowing even if so, they wouldn't address it today. He felt like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

"Morning, you lot. Coffee and tea are hot if you'll take some, there's a platter of toast, beans, and eggs too, thanks to Chef Remus, himself," Sirius said, a smile crossing his face, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

"Thank you, Remus," Rowan said sincerely, loading up a mug and a plate. Harry lingering behind her, waiting to fill up his own plate. Harry lightly tapped her hip to let her know he was walking behind her with a hot mug. They were famished. A pair of honey eyes darted back and forth between them, squinting slightly. Of course, Harry realized, it was the last week before his transformation, his senses were dialed up, including his hearing. He knew. Sirius grabbed his partner's attention, recounting some tale of their youth to Tonks, the word 'Snivellus' jutting out. Harry let out a nervous rasp, diverting his attention back to Rowan, who was trying to listen to whatever Sirius had to say. When she craned her neck to listen closely, Harry saw a bruise left by his lips, inwardly cursing, the reddish-purple blot clear as day. He shook it off, today was about Aurelia and honoring her, not about dreading whatever verbal arse beating his godfathers would give him about making love to his girlfriend later.

After their breakfast and more tales of the Marauders' heyday, the group used a portkey to teleport to the gentle field by Aurelia's burial site, as they would be laying her to rest next to Rowan's older sister, Valentina. A crowd was gathered, including the Weasleys and Hermione, the Order, and a few professors from Hogwarts. Snape lingered along the edge, speaking in clipped tones to Dumbledore when the elder turned his attention to the potions instructor. Rowan threaded her arm through Harry's, approaching the shrouded body of her mother up front, on a marble table.

Harry's nerves flared, but he tensed himself, reminding himself he was here to be her support. The white-blonde hair of the woman was flared out, a blue velvet piece of fabric swathed out, tucking her in for her entry into the ground. This woman had saved his life, given him the love of his life, and treated him like her own child in the short time he had known her. He gently bowed his head in respect, Rowan resting her head on his muscular shoulder, looking upon her mother. He made a silent promise to her, oathing to always protect Rowan, to treat her with nothing that the utmost care and respect, and that he would marry her daughter someday, that she would never want for anything or a hair on her head disturbed. Rowan bowed to kiss her mother's forehead before returning to socialize with the crowd, the pair being taken into the arms of Molly Weasley.

"Rowan, Harry, my favorite couple," she boomed, squeezing them against her chest, Harry's eyes bolted to Sirius's, tinged with an amused glint as he stood with Remus and Tonks. She blabbered on about making them all dinner one night and how they were invited. She caught Rowan's chin in her palm and told the girl to floo on over if she ever needed anything at all. Hermione and Ron lingered behind the matriarch. Hermione was next, wrapping her arms around Rowan, expressing her condolences while Ron pulled Harry in for a hug, plotting some plan for some flying practice when they came to visit.

"Happy birthday, Harry," they all chimed.

"We've missed you all," Rowan said, Harry nodded, his arm resting around her thin waist, earning a standard glare from Ginny. Fred and George circled the group, teasing Harry about his height and touchiness, earning a laugh from Rowan, their goal for the day. The group conversed while waiting for all things to settle down the seriousness of the occasion, Rowan's eyes darting over her shoulder at her mother's body and hearing the hushed whispers of her name with words like "poor" and "tragic". Harry noticed and gently squeezed her waist.

Once free, the newly formed family took the front row of chairs, Remus sitting on the farthest left chair, closest to the aisle, his arm draped over the back of Rowan's chair next to him, Harry sitting to her right, and Sirius's arm around his godson's shoulders, with Tonks sitting to the Animagus's right. Rowan's hand was resting on Harry's knee, his fingers tangled in hers.

Dumbledore began his speech about unprecedented times, the importance of love and chosen family and friendship, and the impact that Aurelia's death would have on everyone lasting from this point forward, describing her as a noble sacrifice for the Order, invoking martyrdom. Rowan had Harry's hand in such a tight grip it was turning white, trying to stop any emotion from cracking across her face. At the end of the eulogy, the Headmaster used his wand to lower her in the grave, and fill the dirt in, covering the top with hyacinths, her mother's favorite flower.

People lingered, bowing their heads to the grave and paying respect. Remus gently rubbed his hand on Rowan's back as they all stood to send off the guests and return to their respective abodes, Molly shrieking at Sirius to demand their presence at dinner next week. Molly was tenacious and would get her way, Rowan observed.

While their cohabitants were distracted, Harry wrapped his arms around Rowan, pulling her into a gentle embrace, whispering condolences and praises in her ear. Dumbledore and Snape's eyes lingered on the pair, a deep longing crossing Severus's face, remembering Lily's nature as he once again was faced with the presence of Harry's heart and immeasurable kindness.

"I hope the future is better for them," Dumbledore mused to Severus who hmm'ed.

Returning to their guardians' side after a final round of thanks, the group took the portkey back to 12 Grimmauld Place. Rowan and Harry popped upstairs upon arriving back at home, mentioning changing and getting comfortable to the older gentlemen, Tonks popping out for some Auror related business.

Once the pair was out of earshot, Remus turned to Sirius, "We need to talk about those two."

"Is it the closeness? They're so serious, you'd think they paid joint taxes. They sleep together every single night, not scandalously-" Sirius trailed off.

"About that, Pads," Remus said, pushing a curl out of his boyfriend's face.

"How do you mean Moony?" He demanded, confused.

"You know how my hearing gets right before the full moon, last night, I couldn't sleep, so I laid back against the headboard while you slept. I heard them,"

"You heard them," Sirius deadpanned, "…you heard our Prongslet shagging his girlfriend," he blanched, mortified.

"What a dog, a happy birthday for Harry indeed, he gets it from me, Remus. James and Lily's baby boy is a man, Merlin." Sirius jested, nudging his partner.

"Sirius, I worry about them getting too wrapped up in each other, especially with You-Know-Who breathing down our necks now. If an accident happens, think about the implications of that."

"Moony, Harry knows well to not let that happen, we had a chat. Besides, he is head over heels for the bird, I'd be more surprised if they weren't shacking up. You remember us at 16? Insatiable. At least he's in love, Harry's a good kid, a smart bloke, and Rosier too, they'll be alright. If we try to make them stop, it won't happen and they'll both only hate us and continue their extracurriculars in less obvious places. Stop mum-ing him, Remus."

Meanwhile upstairs, Harry was popping the pins out of his girlfriend's locks, shaking the curls loose from her frozen frame.

"How about a bath?" He asked her.

"Harry, it's your birthday, we should celebrate you," Rowan said quietly, closing more in on herself.

"We can celebrate any time, I'm sure that's why Mrs. Weasley is so excited about us being there. Right now, my concern is you. You've had a long day, let me help you," Harry pleaded.

Rowan didn't have the energy to fight, shaking loose her waves, and letting Harry guide her into the bathroom. He crouched down, running the water and getting it steaming for her. He added some bubbling essence to the bath, the strong smell of lavender filling the couple's noses. Harry reached her zipper, unfastening the clasp and pulling it down.

"I'll let you get in," Harry said, walking out of the bathroom, her hand yanking his.

"No, join me, relax too," Rowan interjected.

"It's a small tub, I'm not so sure we'll both have space, plus Remus and Sirius may be suspicious, but I think Remus knows," Harry responded, eyeing the clawfoot tub.

"I suspected as much, he kept looking at us oddly this morning. It will all be fine. I mean, they've been letting us share a room. Get in, Harry," His girlfriend bossed.

Harry's dress robes were quickly discarded, settling under the bubbles. Rowan bundled her curls at the top of her head, dropping her undergarments alongside Harry's clothes and grabbing towels from the cupboard before climbing in and settling against his chest. Leaning her head back, she laid it against his collarbone, sighing contentedly.

"Sit forward," Harry commanded her.

She complied, Harry's strong hands finding her shoulders and kneading the flesh, reducing the tight knots to nothing. He continued working down her back on either side of her spine, gently prodding the skin, her humming approvingly. She turned around in the tub to face him, his glasses steamy, pecking his nose.

After laying in the water for some time, it began to cool. The couple stepped out and dried off, both dressing in lounge clothes that bordered on pajamas. Harry tucked Rowan into their bed, kissing her forehead and bidding her pleasant dreams before stalking down the staircase.

In the kitchen, Sirius and Remus sat, a bottle of Knotgrass Mead being shared by the pair. The pair welcome the young man in, Sirius offering him a goblet while Remus scolded him for offering. Harry's eyes darted between the two, confused on whether to accept or deny the offer.

"Does it taste anything like Firewhisky?" Harry asked, remembering the day in the woods and the penchant his girl had for it.

"See, Remus, he's already drinking. You old mother hen," Sirius scolded, laughing, pushing the chalice towards Harry, some of it spilling over the side, "We are at home with him, it's not like he's going to piss his trousers in a pub somewhere."

"When did you have Firewhisky, Harry? He's turned 16, not 17, Sirius." Remus asked, locking his eyes on the boy, the tone shockingly familiar to that of when he was simply Professor Lupin.

"Umm, someone had me try it, they had it in a flask, I didn't know what it was, just had a taste, I didn't get drunk or anything," He said, his ears turning red, from embarrassment and from recalling how the girl's lips had tingled as they touched his, that night being the first time had dreamt of Rowan in a less-than-gentlemanly way.

"This doesn't have nearly the same, bite, try it if you want to," Sirius implored, reaching over to run his fingers through the hair resting at nape of Remus's neck, a rare display of affection in front of Harry.

Harry knew his godfathers were together. They had never talked about it directly, but Harry could tell in the glances, the embraces, and the fact that the two men shared a bed every night despite the multitude of available rooms in the house. He wondered if his father knew, shaking his head at the thought. He assumed this had been a long-term affair, how they had survived losing each other, thoughts that consumed and mirrored Harry's own fear. Once Rowan had healed from her mother, would she still want him? Her only family were death eaters, would she ever join them? He knew her heart to know the answer to that, but his own longing for his parents made him question the unshakable nature of her loyalty to him. He reminded himself that he had Remus and Sirius, and they loved him and cared for him.

Harry lifted the cup, the pang of alcohol hitting his mouth. He savored the slight prickling, enjoying the moment with two of his favorite people.

"So, Harry, is Rowan doing alright?" Remus asked.

"It's been a rough few days, she scares me sometimes with how she can hide her feelings." The younger man said, running his hand sloppily down his face.

"She asleep?" Sirius asked, used to the witch hibernating if not following his boyfriend or godson around like a ghost.

"Yeah, got her in the bath and then in bed. She won't let herself just rest."

"Well, I knew you got her in bed," Sirius chided, Remus kicking his leg under the table, causing him to spill his drink, "Oi! You're cleaning that up."

Harry turned nearly purple, blushing, "I don't know what you mean."

"Now Harry, when a Gryffindor falls for a pretty one, he will waste no time slithering in." Sirius mused, looking at the pair for a laugh.

"Harry, we know you all are sleeping together, and we just want to make sure you are being cautious. We can get you all anything you need; we just, in return, need you to be hon-" Remus explained.

"We're safe, she's on the potion." Harry stressed, wanting this conversation to end.

"Just making sure, we are too young and good looking to be grandparents. We were young'uns at one point too, we get it. Thank God Moony can't conceive, what a world that'd have been," Sirius badgered, causing the group to laugh, Harry wincing at the thought.

"I don't think it'll ever happen," Harry said, taking another sip of the drink.

"What, you being a dad someday?" Remus asked, concerned with the change in the boy's demeanor, Sirius even sobering up.

"Yeah, I mean I can see myself having a baby with Rowan if I'm honest, far in the future. I've liked other girls, but this is different, I've never been so confused and sure about something. She loves you all, she loves my friends, it's perfect. It's just that we may also end up living a life of hiding and running. That's no place to raise a baby. Not to mention, Voldemort could pick one of us off at any point. I'm not getting my hopes up about that happening for us," Harry lamented, clearing his throat.

"You love this girl, right Harry?" Sirius pushed.

"Of course, she's part of our family now," Harry said, looking at the two men who beamed at Harry referring to them as family.

"Isn't family worth fighting for?" Remus said, the men clinking their glasses at that, enjoying their godson's company and being reminded of how much he had grown in front of them.