The next day was Harry's birthday, and Harry somehow managed to sleep through the commotion of the Weasley household's morning routine. He awoke only when Hedwig began tapping at his bedroom window, first lightly, then with increasing force and rapidity. Once Harry let Hedwig inside, she refused to deliver his pair of birthday cards until he gave her an owl treat and scratched between her wings.

The first card Harry opened looked as if it had laying in a busy street for the last several days. It was from the Dursleys, and Harry figured that he ought to get the worst out of the way. The card, if one could call it that, was a piece of lined paper that had been ripped out of a spiral notebook, complete with ragged edges. On the front of the card, Vernon had scrawled the words, "It is your birthday." The inside of the card said nothing. Harry checked the envelope, to see if they had sent any sort of gift, and a stick of hard, chalky chewing gum fell out.

Harry tossed the envelope and card aside, and jammed the gum into his mouth. Might as well enjoy it.

Harry smiled broadly when he opened his second card. The twins had sent him a birthday card of their own making. A line-drawn witch and wizard were moving across the front of the card, engaging in an animated duel. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, though, as they were smiling broadly at one another. Harry opened the card to see what the witch and wizard were doing on the inside, and his face immediately turned red—they weren't wearing their robes, and they were certainly not dueling. Harry snapped the card shut and looked around the room, embarrassed even though he knew he was alone. When Harry re-opened the card, the witch and wizard were pointing and laughing at him. Tucked inside the card was a voucher for free merchandise at the twins' newly opened shop in Diagon Alley, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Harry tucked the voucher in his robes, resolving to make good use of it when he journeyed to Diagon Alley to buy his school supplies for the upcoming year. He hid the card under his mattress, to be disposed of at a more convenient time.

A few presents were arranged at the foot of his bed. Harry wasn't sure whether the gifts had been delivered by Winky or Kreacher, but since they were still neatly wrapped and had not been covered in some sort of vile, vaguely organic slime, Harry guessed that the former was responsible. The first gift was from Theo—a white button-down shirt. The gift seemed boring, as Harry had a dozen of these shirts to wear with his uniform. When Harry lifted the shirt from the box, however, he realized that this was something different. The fabric was light and almost slippery, not at all like cotton, and it stretched slightly when Harry tugged it. As the shirt unfolded, a note fell into Harry's lap.

Harry,

This is a dueling shirt, made with a blend of mooncalf hair. You'll have better mobility, and it won't get sweat stained like regular cotton.

-Theo

Harry looked at the shirt with new appreciation before folding it up and replacing it in the box.

The second box was from Hagrid, and it contained a tiny net on the end of a tiny stick. The opening for the net was only the size of a knut, and Harry wondered what Hagrid could possibly mean for Harry to capture with it. The card provided very little insight: Turn it over, Hargrid had written.

Harry turned the net over in his hand to examine it, and was surprised to discover that it had suddenly doubled in size, and was now lager than a sickle. Harry flipped the net back over, and blinked several times—the net was once again the size of a knut. Harry turned it again, and the net was suddenly sickle-sized.

"Awesome," Harry muttered. Harry began flipping the net in his hand, right side over left, and the net grew and grew until the pole was longer than Harry was tall and the opening was large enough to catch Ron inside. Then Harry began flipping the net left side over right, and before his eyes the net began to shrink until it was once again the size of Harry's spare pocket change.

Harry tucked the net inside his pocket and glanced around his room. There were no more packages for him to open. Harry immediately felt ashamed of himself—he was wealthy enough, especially after Sirius's bequest, and he didn't really need anything—but he was also a little hurt. He had thought that Hermione would send him a book, because that's what she always gave him for his birthday and for Christmas, and Harry had expected Tracey to send him… something.

Harry sighed. Whatever Hermione and Tracey were doing this summer, it had to be pretty engaging if they had forgotten Harry's birthday. Not that Harry would have wished a boring or antagonistic summer on them, but… he was still a little hurt.

Harry opened his door and poked his head into the hallway. It seemed that the washroom was empty, so Harry seized his towel and darted inside. A few minutes later, freshly showered and with wet hair, Harry emerged from the washroom. He could hear voices downstairs, probably at the table eating breakfast. Harry hurried to his room and jumped into his clothes—if he wanted any food, he'd have to move quickly. Harry took the stairs two at a time, and had already made it into the kitchen before he realized that there were two new guests seated at the table.

"Surprise!" shouted Tracey.

"Happy birthday!" called Hermione, who was quickly echoed by Tracey, Ron, and Ginny. Tracey and Hermione each had a full plate of food in front of them, and they appeared to have been eating for some time. Ron and Ginny had empty plates in front of them, and had already resumed an ongoing argument about who got to eat the last link of sausage. On the stove, a pot was bubbling over low heat—probably dinner, Harry thought.

"The last link is for Harry!" Mrs. Weasley said loudly from the sink, where she was washing dishes. Ron and Ginny flopped back into their seats and crossed their arms. "And happy birthday, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, turning to Harry.

"Thanks, everyone," Harry said, taking a seat next to Ginny. He quickly seized the last link of sausage, then began filling his plate with eggs and potatoes. "When did you two get here?" Harry asked Tracey and Hermione.

"Just this morning," Hermione said. "Tonks came by, picked us up, and brought us here."

Harry paused, a forkful of eggs partway to his mouth. "Tonks? Is something wrong? I mean, did you need protection?"
"No, nothing like that," Hermione said. "I had always planned to visit Ron and Ginny at some point this summer, and once I heard that you were staying here it just seemed like your birthday would be the perfect time. Mrs. Weasley arranged for Tonks to get us."

"Too bad Bill wasn't here to see her," Ginny grumbled. Harry might have been imagining it, but Mrs. Weasley seemed to have grunted in agreement.

"And as much as I would have preferred to stay alone with Hermione's parents," Tracey said somewhat flatly, "I got dragged along."

"Oh, hush," Hermione said, waving her hand at Tracey. Tracey stuck out her tongue, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, why don't you open your gifts?"

Harry reached across the table and accepted the packages that Hermione and Tracey were holding out for him. Harry opened Hermione's first. It was, as he had expected, a book: Charms of Defence and Deterrence, by Professor Catullus Spangle. Harry glanced at the table of contents—the book dealt with the magical theory underlying the Patronus Charm. Harry thanked Hermione, and he thought he did a fair job of concealing his annoyance at her choice of subject matter. Her not-so-subtle message to Harry—that he should focus on defense rather than counter-attack—had long since been received.

Turning to Tracey's gift, Harry opened the package and discovered an assortment of sweets from Honeydukes. "I ordered them before we knew you would be at the Burrow," Tracey said. "I thought a taste of Honeydukes would do you a lot of good while you were stuck with your aunt and uncle."

"It'll do me a lot of good now," Harry said, seizing a chocolate frog. He unwrapped the tasty faux-amphibian and took an enormous bite.

Mrs. Weasley was appalled. She had turned around to watch Harry open his gifts, and Harry saw that her right hand was on her hip, clutching a dishrag. "You'll spoil your breakfast, Harry!"

"But itfs my bwrfday," Harry sputtered through a mouthful of chocolate.

Everybody at the table laughed, and Harry was thankful to have diverted their attention. Ever since he had opened Tracey's gift, he had been struggling to control his emotions. Hermione's gift was annoying, yes, but it was also thoughtful. Tracey's gift, though… Tracey's gift could have been purchased by any witch, or for any wizard. It was the equivalent of Harry buying Tracey a gift from Madam Primpernelle's—the refuge of the desperate, the lazy, and the ambivalent.

Harry had would have preferred the version of his birthday from earlier in the morning, when he thought that Tracey had not gotten him a gift at all. Receiving a box full of candy was insulting, and Tracey was smart enough to know exactly what she was doing.

Harry hadn't realized his relationship with Tracey had deteriorated so badly.

Ron presented Harry with a card, and inside the card were a pair of tickets to a Chudley Canons quidditch match in late October. "They're at the bottom of the league," Ron said excitedly, "but if they have a chance of winning a game this year, it's against Falmouth." Ron looked down. "Then again, Falmouth beat Chudley 370 to 40 when they played in June…"

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said. "I'm sure the game will be great."

"I mean, it won't be like the World Cup," Ron said. "Chudley haven't won a game in years, and their chasers are terrible. Did you know that Marcus Flint was playing for them, now? Their beaters are just rubbish, too. And their coach is the worst. Oliver Wood is basically their only player worth a-"

"RON," Harry said. "Thank you. I'm already looking forward to it."

"Oh. Good!" Ron's face brightened. "And, you know, if you can't find anybody to go to the match with you…"

Hermione swatted Ron in the arm. "Ronald! If you want to go to a quidditch match, buy the tickets yourself!"

Ron shrank away from Hermione. "I was just saying…"

"Well, don't," Hermione said. She glanced up at Mrs. Weasley and rolled her eyes. Mrs. Weasley turned away, hiding her smile.

"My gift isn't ready yet," Ginny said to Harry.

"How thoughtful of you," Tracey muttered under her breath.

Ginny sent Tracey a cross look, then turned her eyes back to Harry. "You'll have to wait until after dinner."

"I'm not worried," Harry said. "I'm a patient bloke."

With no more gifts to open, conversation turned away from Harry. Harry was thankful that the attention was no longer focused squarely on him—he was quiet as he ate the remainder of his breakfast, speaking only when necessary to avoid appearing suspicious. Ron, thankfully, provided a welcome distraction—he was so happy to have Hermione in the room that he was practically bursting with excitement. Ginny was able to get in a few words when Ron and Hermione weren't talking, but that accounted for the majority of the speaking time at the kitchen table. Harry and Tracey were allowed to sit in silence. Their eyes met a few times, but one or the other would look away almost immediately.

The afternoon was spent playing awkward two-aside quidditch at Ron's behest. Ron, excited to finally have enough players to form a "proper game," declared himself all-time keeper. Harry and Hermione formed one team, with Hermione's tentativeness and lack of experience balancing the wild advantage of Harry's Firebolt. And although they hadn't spoken more than five words to one another since Tracey arrived, she and Ginny formed a surprisingly good team. As Harry had said to Ginny earlier in the summer, they might not like each other but they certainly worked well together.

Their match lasted for most of the afternoon, until Ginny finally called an end to it. Tracey and Harry were upset for very different reasons—Tracey was enjoying winning, while Harry was upset that he and Hermione would be deprived of a chance to catch up. Ginny was adamant, however, and a few moments later her broom was safely stored in the shed. Hermione tried to beg out of the game, as well, but Ron was having none of it. Ron came out of the goal and played chaser with Tracey to even the teams. Hermione heaved a heavy sigh, but Ron didn't notice.

A couple of hours after Ginny went inside, Mrs. Weasley came to the window and called everybody for dinner. Ron couldn't stop talking about the game and the various plays that had been attempted by both teams, despite the fact that Hermione's capacity for quidditch had been exhausted long before Ginny had left the game. Catching a desperate glance from Hermione, Harry stepped up to Ron's other side and enthusiastically engaged the tall redhead in a conversation about the merits of shooting versus passing when two chasers were facing only a single defender in addition to the keeper. Ron favored passing—even though it risked being intercepted by the defender, a successful pass would leave the keeper out of position and make a goal more likely. Privately, Harry agreed with Ron, but in order to effectuate Hermione's rescue Harry began to argue vigorously in favor of shooting. Perhaps too vigorously—Ron wouldn't abandon the subject, despite Harry's clear verbal cues as they sat down to eat. Finally, Mrs. Weasley issued a new edict: no quidditch at the dinner table.

As Mrs. Weasley began serving salad, Harry noticed that Ginny was not present. "Shouldn't we wait?" Harry asked.
"I think she's just washing up," Mrs. Weasley said. "She didn't want me to wait—she'll be down in a moment."

Harry almost finished with his salad when he heard the creaking of stairs that meant Ginny was on her way down. When Ginny stepped into the kitchen, Harry froze. His forkful of vegetables was halfway to his open mouth, but Harry had already forgotten it. Ginny had washed up, but she was not wearing her usual attire of denim jeans and a t-shirt. Instead, she was wearing a navy blue sundress that left her freckled shoulders exposed. She sat down next to Harry and asked her mother to pass the salad. After a moment, she turned to Harry.

"You're about to lose your carrot," she said.

"What?" Harry said, startled out of his reverie. The carrot, which had been precariously balanced on Harry's fork, slipped off, bounced on his plate, and went careening toward his pants. Harry's left hand reflexively snapped upward to catch the carrot, but there wasn't enough room between Harry's waist and the table. Harry's hand smashed against the underside of the table instead, loudly rattling the dishes. "Shite!" Harry yelled. He pushed back his chair and shook his hand, trying to chase the pain away. Then Harry looked up, caught Mrs. Weasley's eye, and winced. "Sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said quietly.

"That's okay, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "But only this once."

"Lucky it's your birthday," Ginny whispered, elbowing Harry in the ribs.

Harry smiled and retrieved the carrot from his pants. He excused himself and stepped away from the table to throw the carrot in the bin. As he returned to the table, he saw that Tracey was sending a nasty glare toward Ginny. She was hiding it from the rest of the table with her hand, pretending to scratch her forehead, but to Harry her face was completely exposed.

When Harry returned to his seat, he saw that Tracey had managed to compose her face. She was making small talk with Hermione and Ron as Mrs. Weasley stood and began ladling the main course into bowls and passing them course around the table. It appeared to be some sort of beef stew with rough-chopped vegetables. Harry wasn't sure what to call it, but it looked and smelled delicious.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said as he accepted a bowl of stew. Harry eagerly scooped himself an enormous spoonful, and was happy to find that the stew tasted as good as it looked. "This is fantastic."

"You're welcome, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "But Ginny made dinner." Harry's eyebrows went up. Across the table, Tracey began coughing, as if she had swallowed something distasteful.

"You were barely out of my sight all day," Harry said, turning to Ginny. "When did you have time?"

"I got up early and did most of the work before everybody else was awake," Ginny said.

"You didn't want anybody to see if something went wrong?" Tracey asked. Her voice was light and teasing, but Harry knew there was an edge of aggression in her comment.

"I wanted Harry to have a nice dinner for his birthday," Ginny said. "And I didn't want him to see his birthday present before it was ready."

"Well, thank you," Harry said quietly. "It's wonderful."

Ginny blushed and smiled. At the other end of the table, Tracey blanched in mock disgust.

Harry ignored her—having somebody care enough about him to make a special birthday dinner was something he had never experienced. The Malfoys had always taken Harry out to eat, usually to a restaurant that was hideously expensive. The extravagance had always made Harry somewhat uncomfortable. With the Dursleys, Harry had usually been the one COOKING dinner, and Harry had known better than to cook himself something special—if he did, Dudley always gobbled it up before Harry had a chance to take a bite. Sometime, Vernon or Petunia would order their son to do so, smirking with satisfaction while Harry's specially made snack disappeared in Dudley's enormous mouth.

Dinner at the Weasley's, however, was perfect. Harry was comfortable, the food was delicious, he was surrounded by his friends… it really was a present, more than a meal.

When everybody had finished with the main course, Ron was the first to stand from the table. "Harry, there's this new defense I wanted to talk to you about-"

"What did I say about quidditch at the dinner table?" Mrs. Weasley asked, interrupting.

"Dinner's over," Ron said. "I'm standing!"

"Sit down," Ginny said firmly. "Dinner isn't over yet."

"Don't gang up on me," Ron said, still standing.

"Ronald!" snapped three female voices at once. Hermione, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley exchanged grins. The younger girls deferred to Mrs. Weasley, who pointed at Ron's chair. "Sit."

Ron sat.

Ginny, meanwhile, was sitting up in her seat a little bit, looking around the kitchen. She seemed to be searching for something in particular. "Mum?" Ginny asked. "Where's the… you know…"

"Oh! Sorry, dear." Mrs. Weasley drew her wand from her apron and gestured toward the countertop. The air above the counter rippled for a moment, and a moment later a birthday cake swam into view. It was two tiered, covered in chocolate frosting, and at the top of the cake a replica of a golden snitch was surrounded by a ring of sixteen candles. Ginny rose and retrieved the cake, carrying it gingerly across the room and placing it gently at the center of the table. Mrs. Weasley waved her wand again, and tiny flames flickered to life atop the candles.

"This is the gift that wasn't ready, yet?" Harry asked. Ginny shrugged noncommittally. "I hope you like it."

Harry smiled broadly. "It's brilliant. Of course I like it." The Malfoys had always purchased a fancy cake for Harry's birthday, and those had certainly looked nicer, but it was obvious that Ginny had labored over this cake. "Let's see what I can do about these candles, then." He took in a deep breath and managed to blow out all of the candles but one. A quick puff extinguished the remaining candle, and Mrs. Weasley set about cutting the cake.

After dinner, both Hermione and Tracey went upstairs to wash up for the evening. Harry helped Ron and Ginny clean the kitchen, and as they were finishing Hermione returned to the ground floor, bushy hair in fullest frizz after her shower. Ron immediately went to her side, and the two began a quiet conversation.

Harry, who was placing the last of the dishes in the cupboard, gave Ginny a glance. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

"You mean you don't want to wait around for Tracey?" Ginny said. She tilted her head upward, toward the sound of running water that was coming from the washroom shower.

"She'll be fine," Harry said. "Let's go."

It was a warm evening, and Harry could hear frogs croaking in the nearby marsh. On the edge of the Weasleys' property was a small copse of trees, and in their shadows flickered the light of fireflies.

Harry and Ginny were quiet for the first portion of their walk. Harry wasn't sure what Ginny was thinking, but he was thinking about how wonderful his birthday had been. The gifts and dinner were more understated than he had experienced when celebrating with the Malfoys, but today's events felt closer to Harry's heart.

As Harry and Ginny reached the edge of the garden, they turned and began to circle the Burrow. "Thank you," Harry said, finally breaking the silence. "I've gotten gifts before—Hagrid even got me a cake, once—but this is the first time I've ever been thrown a proper party.

Ginny smiled. "I'm glad you liked it. The kitchen isn't my comfort zone, so there was a definite chance that I could have made everybody sick with my cooking."

"Well, I'm not bent over a loo yet, so I think we're probably safe," Harry said, smiling back.

"You really know how to charm a lady," Ginny said. "Take her on an evening walk, talk about vomiting into the loo…"

"I'm sorry, what was your nickname for Fleur, again?" Harry asked. "As I recall, it wasn't very ladylike."

"Careful, Harry Potter," Ginny said. "Remember what happened the last time you suggested that I wasn't a lady."

Harry furrowed his brow. "I got detention?"

Ginny laughed and pushed Harry, who stumbled but quickly regained his balance. "Prat."

Harry laughed, as well. They were past the garden now, almost to the edge of the property. Remembering Mrs. Weasley's admonishments to stay close, Harry and Ginny turned once again. "Seriously, though, thank you for the dinner and the cake. That little party was the highlight of my summer."

"Oh, really?" Ginny said, raising one eyebrow. "If that party was the highlight of your summer, then how would you characterize our walk last night?"

Harry blushed as he thought back to the previous evening, but he wasn't truly ashamed—Ginny had been there, too, after all. Harry gave her question another moment of consideration before shrugging his shoulders. "There's no good way to answer that, is there?"

"Nope," Ginny said, smiling and laughing.

"How is it that girls learn to ask tricky questions like that?" Harry wondered aloud. "Is there a class at Hogwarts that the boys aren't told about?"

"Yes," Ginny said earnestly. "But it isn't for girls, it's for ladies."

Harry laughed and held up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, I'm clearly outmatched here. I retract my previous statement. In no particular order, last evening and this evening have been among this summer's most wonderful."

Ginny nodded her head firmly. "Much better." She began walking away from Harry and gestured for him to follow. "Now, come over here so I can give you the rest of your gift."

"The rest?"

"Yes." When Harry was slow to follow, Ginny stepped back, grabbed his shirt, and began tugging him across the lawn. "This was actually going to be your first gift, but I thought it was sort of crummy, so I made you dinner and threw you a little party, too." Ginny stopped in front of her father's shed and released Harry.

"Oh boy," Harry said flatly. "A shed. Just what I wanted."

Ginny swatted Harry on the back of his head. "Go inside!"

Harry entered. The shed was dark, in the twilight, until Ginny lit a lamp near the door. The shed was rather chaotically arranged, with tools hanging here and there and broken parts of muggle appliances scattered over every flat surface. The center of the shed had been cleared, apparently recently. On the far side of the shed, Harry saw the record player that he had gotten Ginny for the previous Christmas.

Ginny crossed the shed and moved the needle of the record player. "I had to owl Fred and George to get this for me. For you, rather."

"You got me a record?" Harry said, grinning.

"Yes," said Ginny. "And I know that you don't have anything to play it, which is why it was such a crummy gift. But I feel like we've always really connected about music. It's something we share."

"We share other things," Harry said.

"I certainly wasn't going to get the Slytherin quidditch captain any equipment," Ginny said immediately.

Harry grimaced. "I don't-"

"It's going to be you," Ginny said, interrupting Harry. "Snape isn't stupid. Now, hush."

Harry fell silent. For the first time, he truly focused on the music that was coming out of the record player. It was upbeat and peppy, with several male voices singing in harmony. "Who is this?" Harry asked.

"They're called The Beach Boys," Ginny said. She picked up the record sleeve and held it up for Harry to see. "An American band. I wanted something new… and something we could dance to."

"Ah," Harry said, finally understanding Ginny's true purpose. "So the real gift isn't the record at all. The real gift is the time I get to spend with you?"

Ginny snapped her finger and stomped her foot. "Damn it! I wish I'd thought to say that!"

"Because then you wouldn't have needed to make me dinner?" Harry said.

"Exactly."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Harry said. "Without that dinner, I'd still be hungry. And I can't dance on an empty stomach."

"So… you like it?" Ginny asked. Behind all the banter, Harry could see that Ginny was truly worried about the gift.

"I do," Harry said honestly. He stepped toward Ginny. "But I'm worried you don't."

"What? Why?"

"Because you aren't dancing yet!" Harry seized Ginny's hands and pulled her toward the center of the shed. Ginny laughed, and a moment later they were both dancing.

After the fourth or fifth song, Harry and Ginny were both covered in sweat. As the last guitar chord faded, they both paused. Harry raised a hand to wipe his brow as the next song began, and as he moved his hand away he realized that a slow song was beginning. Harry looked at Ginny and saw her brown eyes glancing uncertainly toward a chair that was tucked away at the corner of the shed.

"Don't even think about it," Harry said. Harry stepped forward and Ginny's eyes snapped away from the chair, meeting Harry's own. "I thought you wanted something we could dance to?" Harry reached out and grabbed Ginny's right hand with his left, raising it into the air. He placed his right hand on Ginny's hip, and was pleased to find that Ginny's left hand was now resting on his shoulder.

It wasn't the first time that Harry and Ginny had shared a slow dance, but the differences were apparent. They were almost two years older, and each knew the other far better than they had at Yule Ball. Harry felt the urge to move closer to Ginny, and as his feet shuffled around the floor he allowed their movements to carry him closer and closer. A few steps later, Harry and Ginny's bodies were pressed together. Harry's right hand moved from Ginny's hip to the small of her back, and she did not move away.

"I haven't thanked you properly," Harry said, turning his head slightly toward Ginny. Their faces were very close, and Harry could feel Ginny's warm breath on the base of his neck.

"You thanked me earlier," Ginny said.

"I know," Harry replied. "But I haven't thanked you properly." Harry tilted his head to one side and, when Ginny made no attempt to move away, he leaned forward and kissed her.

Neither Harry nor Ginny noticed when the slow song ended.