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Harry had the best morning. It was completely excellent, he loved it.

The maids had showered him with gifts, and his father had hugged him three times. Bertrum had joined them for a delicious breakfast, even more mouth-watering than normal. Laughter, and jokes, had filled the air. And now Harry was standing beside the door, his father had put on his coat, and was about to leave. "Oh dad, do you have to go?" Harry sighed, he felt so utterly relaxed. His father hugged him tightly again

"This has been a half day to remember," he laughed. And turned to see a taxi pulling up "Is that your girlfriend?" He nudged him teasingly and Harry laughed, leaning his head back.

But something wouldn't leave him "Dad? What is this?...I-I mean...this sudden...change of heart?"

His father shook his head "Every doubt I ever had about you Harold...in this last week, they've all disappeared. You are exactly the man I want you to be. Almost, and that's just in running Osborne Enterprises, which I know you can do. I love you son, I always have, I just had to be aloof in your life, to make sure you became who you needed to be. I promise, I'll make up for all lost time."

Harry couldn't help himself, he hugged him again. And if anyone had ever said that a lifetime of hurt couldn't be taken away in a few hours, they were wrong. Norman had treated his son like a son, like a best friend and Harry was thrilled. It was all he ever wanted. And if this was the only niceness and kindness and goodness from his dad that he got, he would take it. He didn't care if his father was lying, the five hours he had just spent with his father, and the maids, and Bertrum, he felt like part of an actual family. And he would have something to dream out. "I love you dad," he whispered, eyes stinging with tears.

His father hugged him back "I love you too, son. See you later, remember, you spend some time with Poppy, then head to your cousins house, then come back here, I should be home pretty soon after you and we can have a huge race around the house, yeah? With all the stuff." Harry nodded, and waved his father off. Something he hadn't done for a very long time.

And then he saw Poppy rushing up the pathway, he didn't know what to do and was surprised when she flung her arms tightly around him, hugging him and kissing just below his ear. He laughed in joy and pulled her inside, closing the door. "Poppy," he whispered, slamming her softly into the new shut down and bowing his head, he kissed her deeply, hands on either side of her head.

"Happy birthday," she grinned, pressing her present into his hands "Open it!"

"Ah," Harry smiled, and they jogged over to the wide steps, sitting on the bottom, not very conveniently, right in the middle, but there was nothing for the maids to do upstairs, so they were fine. He untied the ribbon and gently lifted up the lid of the box. And looked inside. There, laying on soft white paper, was a fresh pallet of paints and a black paintbrush. He lifted it out with careful fingers, and refused to look at Poppy "How nice..." he murmured "And...how random." He swallowed thickly "Why would you get this for me, Poppy?"

She half shrugged "You seemed like someone who liked painting.

"You've never seen me painting." He pointed out.

Poppy said nothing.

Harry sighed, placing it back in the box, but keeping it close to his chest. "That's what you were talking to Bertrum about." He looked up suddenly, but still, refused to look at her "Bertrum!" he called loudly, his voice echoed through the mansion, and the maids all stopped, thinking for the first time about how much Harry sounded like Norman. Bertrum appeared in no time at all, looking pristine as ever. Harry stood, stalking towards him. And held up the box "Look what Poppy got me for my birthday, Bertrum. Paints."

"How thoughtful." The old butler said carefully. Harry arched an eyebrow

"Yeah. What do you think gave her the impression I liked to paint?"

"Couldn't begin to guess Sir." He said politely "Though women are said to have a sen-"

"Bertrum!" Harry whined, leaning against the bannister "Man! You told her! Who else have you told?"

"I'm sorry, Master Harold." Bertrum sighed, and relented at Harry's glare "I'm sorry, Harry. But she's the one, you love her. Why not let her in on this part of you-"

"Because everyone needs a part to themselves!" He snapped, but now he just looked tired, he wasn't angry at Bertrum. "I'm sorry Bertrum," he ran his hands through his hair, and held his hand out for Poppy, and she stood quietly beside him. He smiled "You only did it for me."

"As I do everything, Sir."

Harry couldn't help but smile at that, and Poppy giggled beside him. "Fine. As long as this doesn't get out any further." He gave them both a pointed look "My father's beginning to love me guys, let's not wreck that." He held his hand out to Bertrum "Can I have the key?"

"Of course Master Harold." Bertrum said, out of force of habit, and gave him the key. Harry smiled, tapping Bertrums back, another apology for his small outburst. And he led Poppy through the manor. She was smiling to herself.

"What?" He asked curiously, still holding the paints and the key in one hand.

"Nothing. It's just...I'm getting to know this place, you know? I recognise that and that," she was excited "I'm learning." He half smiled. And Poppy sighed "Mara and Jerome aren't coming..." Harry arched an eyebrow as he led her down the next corridor and up a flight of stairs. "I tried to tell them, but they were trying to fix themselves and...ugh, they were being selfish."

"Poppy," he laughed "My darling love, I didn't think they would come. No never, it's not a very nice thought, but I've always known I'm not as important to them as they are to each other. And why should I be? They're in love."

Poppy's lips turned down in the corners "So does that mean I'm more important to you, then Jerome?"

He looked at her accusingly and laughed "I love you Poppy, and your brother is my brother. But if you're asking who I couldn't live without? Ah, it's you," he stopped in front of a door, and turned the lock, gesturing them both inside. And closing the door behind them, he locked it as well, flicking on the switch. It was exactly how Poppy remembered, and he leaned against the door, watching her admire the ones on the wall. Poppy was smiling, he hadn't been in here since last week when she'd come in, even the covered up painting was still there. "Why do I get the feeling this is not your first time in here?"

"Bertrum likes me," she shrugged happily, her hair was down and laid out like a blanket down her back, beautiful and blonde.

"I bet you took advantage of him with your Clarke charm." he teased. Poppy laughed. He set the present lovingly on the table "I guess he told you why I started painting?" She nodded, and he sighed "I haven't painted lately though, nothing to paint. Only so many sceneries, and only so many bowls of fruit." She leaned against the wall adjacent to him, waiting.

"But you've started painting something," Poppy noted, pointing to the covered up, probable masterpiece. "Which is it? Another scene? Or a bowl of exotic fruit?"

"Neither." He answered, a small quirk of the lips. "I got inspired by something, and I started painting it. But...haven't had the time to finish. And no, you can't see it,"

"Oh please" she whined, "I wore this dress for you!" He laughed nodding

"And you look beautiful." She pouted, staring at him persuasively, and it reminded him slightly of Jerome when he was desperate. Harry sighed, clasping his hands together "Fine, it you're so desperate to see my painting." He went over to it, and picked up the cloth "Ready?" She nodded eagerly, and he pulled it off, she gasped.

If Poppy didn't know any better. She'd say it was her. She was standing on a grand staircase, wearing the white dress she'd worn the night of the party, and he had drawn her surrounded by a halo of light, as though she were the belle of the ball, as though she were an angel. It was beautiful. "It's not..." she whispered touching it gently "That's not me?"

"My art isn't very good," he muttered, embarrassed now. Oh god he felt so stupid. She didn't like it. "I mean, it looks nothing like you, you're so much more beautiful, I couldn't capture it quite right-" he was moving his hands, trying to explain his failure visually

"Harry, she..." she pointed at the girl in the painting "Is one thousand times prettier than me. Is that actually how you see me?" He nodded at her, slightly confused, and she was suddenly kissing up, shoving him up against a wall, until he slid down and she was straddling him. She was blushing "You think I'm beautiful."

"Of course I do," he whispered, slightly dazed. "You're gorgeous." He leaned forward, kissing her again. Her fingers tangled in his hair and he kept thinking over and over.

This is the best birthday ever.

But Harry didn't realise, that a lot could happen in a day.

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