Hardly anything had changed in Godric's Hollow. The dappled sunlight still filtered through the rowans, streaming green light through the high, porch window, onto the buttercream walls of the hallway. Only the photographs festooning the steep incline of the mahogany stairs showed how much time had changed. A decade ago, only a large, gilt-framed portrait hung, depicting a beautiful, fiery-haired bride resting her head under the chin of a tall, emerald-robed man, whose wry grin was rendered warm by his intelligent, expressive hazel eyes. Now, however, there were several smaller photographs; two boys, one lithe and dark, the other plump and blond, grinning, gap toothed, as they dug into toffee apples whilst fireworks blazed, multi-hued, overhead. Two men, running through a daisy dotted field, each with a cheering child on their shoulders, tiny fingers gripping onto their flowing, raven manes like reins. The fiery-haired woman, proudly smiling into the camera as she stood behind the blond and raven haired boy, each of whom held a tiny, golden cauldron, the Junior Potions trophy, and a large, dribbling, sweetie-encrusted ice-cream.

A smell of buttery pastry and coffee wafts up the stairs, inveigling its way into a large, sky-blue bedroom. It is a strange room; two large, airy bay windows are flanked by a tall, oak wardrobe and sleigh bed apiece. At the head of each bed, stands a small, square table and, at the end of each bed, lies a large, deep trunk. If it were not for the disparately coloured lamps on the bedside table, the varied books on the bookcases, and, last but not least, the tousled dark hair peeping out from underneath the green duvet of one bed, as opposed to the plump, blond head snuggled into the red pillows of the other, one might well think that a mirror had been placed diagonally across this room.

The blond child licked his lips in his sleep, sighing happily as he opened his blue eyes. Stretching, he sits up and slipping out from his crimson bed linen, waddles over to the dark haired boy.

“C’mon Harry. It’s my birthday today! You know what that means!”

Two large, green eyes blaze open and a wide grin draws across that pale, pointed face.

“Croissants with home made strawberry jam and banana milkshakes!” the boys chorused joyfully, before flinging themselves out of the room and stampeding down the hallway, their feet thundering on the stairs.

In the white walled kitchen, Severus was just pulling a tray of warm, fragrant pastries from the oven when the two, panting, beaming children burst in, their slippers screeching on the terracotta tiles as they abruptly skidded to a halt.

“Boys! What have I told you about running in the kitchen?!” The tall wizard exclaimed, tucking a long lock of wavy raven hair behind his ear and glaring down at them through wire rimmed spectacles.

“It’s my birthday?” Dudley replied, hopefully.

Severus shook his head and ushered them towards the heavy walnut kitchen table. Dudley grinned when he saw the pile of brightly wrapped presents.

“Where’s Aunt Lily?” he asked, waddling over to the larder, where he had secreted a second stash the night before. The blond chucked a knobbly package, wrapped in dragon adorned paper, at his younger brother. “Heads up, Harry!”

“Lily and Uncle Sirius were called into the office early this morning, I’m afraid.” Severus replied, placing a large, frothy milkshake in front of each boy. “Nothing dangerous,” he added, noting their concerned expressions, “merely intelligence received.”
Harry nodded, his green eyes wide, and took a noisy sip of his milkshake. Dudley, on the other hand, pouted “It’s not fair! Aunt Lily’s never away on Harry’s birthday!”

“She is too!” Harry protested, a blush spreading across his indignant face.

“That is enough, Dudley.” Severus replied sternly, plonking a large plate of croissants in front of the boys. “Lily missed half of Harry’s fifth birthday party.”

“Sides, it’s not her fault when she gets called away” Harry added, helping himself to a large spoonful of strawberry jam. “It’s the job.”

Dudley sighed and ripped off a corner of his croissant. As satisfying as a good whine might be, Uncle Sev always knew the answers to everything and trying to outsmart the man would only end in Dudley losing his temper. And he really didn’t fancy spending his birthday disembowelling newts.

“Can I open this, Dud?” Harry asked, staring longingly at his present.

“Sure.” The blond haired boy replied, shaking off his ill humour. “Here, Uncle Sev” he said, handing his uncle a flat, square package.

“Thank you Dudley.”

It was a family tradition for the birthday boy (or girl, in Lily’s case) to buy something small for everyone in the family. Uncle Sev said that it acted as a reminder that a birthday was a celebration for everyone.

Several busy moments later, Dudley was sitting in a flurry of wrapping paper, howling with laughter at a purple ‘My Little Pony’ toy.

“Aunt Bathilda’s presents to you get better every year” Harry wheezed, wiping away the tears which leaked from his shimmering eyes.

“Come on, boys” Severus said sternly, fighting the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That’s enough. Aunt Bathilda is rather elderly and unused to buying toys, let alone ones from muggle shops.”

“Ah well, I guess we’ll find some use for it.”

“Ginny’s party bag?” Harry suggested, absentmindedly opening and closing the dragon-head shaped lid of his new biscuit jar, making it roar and twitch its horned tail.

“Maybe, or dad could make it into a party ride?”

Behind his coffee cup, Severus smiled; although, as a rule, Dudley honoured his parents by reserving the titles ‘mum’ and ‘dad’ for Petunia and Vernon, when he occasionally slipped and called Severus ‘Dad’, it was all the more special.

Adjusting the strap of his shiny, new gold watch, Dudley eyed the last present, wondering what Aunt Marge had given him this year. Although he knew his father’s sister was well disposed to him, her stubborn ill will against his adoptive parents and unkindness towards Harry always rather stuck in the craw. After all, Sirius was Harry’s godfather and he always treated both boys equally.

Sighing, Dudley tore away the paper from the large parcel to reveal a Super NES and a stack of games. However, when Dudley opened the box, he discovered that there was only one controller of the two advertised on the glossy box.

“Don’t worry, Dud.” Harry said sympathetically. “We know what she’s like.”

Dudley forced a smile “Yeah, well, we can just take it in turns.”

“So, what are we gonna do today, Dad?” Harry asked to break the silence.

“A period of Judo, to work off breakfast, then we could probably squeeze in a potion before we have to start preparing for your party.”

Dudley nodded; potions was the one subject in which even a squib such as himself could excel and, as Severus now worked from home, brewing industrial grade potions for the Ministry, both boys had ample opportunity to spend time in the lab.

OoOoO

“Oh Severus! Is that…” Arthur Weasley groaned, staring forlornly at the purple pony, which had been enlarged to the size of a horse and animated to buck and rear.

“Hush, Arthur.” Molly said stiflingly, as she bustled in, holding a gigantic chocolate cake, covered with mounds of cream, cocoa nibs and sweet black cherries.

“Wow!” Dudley grinned. “That looks fantastic Mrs Weasley”

Harry beamed, nodding. The Weasleys weren’t all that well off and, therefore, they always brought food as gifts. However, as two hungry pre-teens, Harry and Dudley far preferred Mrs Weasley’s delicious home cooking to anything shop-bought.

“Thank you, dears” Mrs Weasley beamed, a smile warming her pretty, plump face. “And we’ve also brought chips and honey cakes.”

“And a bouncy castle!” added Bill, holding up a squishy package. “Dad confiscated it last week: it’s been charmed to be bigger inside than out.”

“Not so loud, Bill!”

As Mrs Weasley arranged her fare on the large table that Severus, Harry and Dudley had laid out in the back garden, there was a crack of apperation and the doorbell rung.

Harry and Dudley ran to the door.

“Hi Susan! Hello Mr and Mrs Bones. Come in.” Dudley offered, smiling at the girl “Ginny’ll be really glad to see you.”

“As will we” Harry added quickly.

Susan laughed “I got what you meant, Dudley” she said to the blushing boy. “Here I’ve got you a present. Hope you like it.”

No sooner had Mrs and Mr Bones installed themselves by the barbeque, where Severus was carefully cooking juicy sausages and hamburgers to a turn, when the doorbell rang again.

“Must be Nev, Luna never arrives on time.”

Despite Luna’s sudden conversion to vegetarianism, necessitating Severus to share his Portobello mushrooms, the children sat down to a fantastic party tea. Dudley, whose apatite, inherited, he supposed, from his portly father, was always rather large, happily indulged himself, heaping steaming piles of chips, cheeseburgers and hotdogs onto his plate.

After all the children had eaten, Bill and Charlie erected the bouncy castle and, with Bathilda’s gift charmed into a ‘bucking bronco’ and Mrs Weasley doing the face painting, Dudley was in a very forgiving mood when, in the early evening, Lily and Sirius entered the garden, carrying huge trays of Fortescues ice-cream.

As Dudley lay in bed that night, flicking through an album stuffed with photographs of his birth parents, he was almost able to stifle the ever-present pang of longing. It was tough, being the odd one out, the squib in a houseful of magically gifted people. Although Severus did his best, teaching the boys muggle subjects, like Science, Maths, and English, and only including magical lessons in which both could participate, like History of Magic and Potions, Dudley knew that, whenever he went off to his boxing lessons, Harry was being taught stuff about magic. And, this September, their paths would separate, with Dudley going off to Smeltings, his father’s school, and Harry to Hogwarts. Along with all their friends.

It was hard not to feel envious, knowing that he was being left behind, but Dudley supposed, it was better than being left out entirely. Sighing, the blond boy opened the draw of his bedside cabinet, lovingly tucked the album inside and looked over at Harry, who was sound asleep.

Dudley knew he had his faults; he was stubborn, hot tempered and rather self-indulgent, not to mention a little slow on the uptake sometimes. Nevertheless, Dudley had enough smarts to realise that, although Lily and Severus never spoke ill of his parents, there was a surprising dearth of family stories about them. Moreover, he had once overheard Bathilda mention, in passing, what wonderful a job Severus was doing in raising a muggle child and how she hoped that, with such an inclusive upbringing, they would avoid the variance that had existed between Petunia and Lily.

With Marge’s persistent ill-natured behaviour, it didn’t take a genius to work out that his Mum had been jealous of Lily and that there had been a breach. Dudley hoped that he wasn’t dumb enough to blame Harry for something that wasn’t his fault. He liked his little brother.