“Happy birthday, kiddo,” Sirius said with a grin before Harry could speak, and pulled him into a hug. “Having a good time?”

“Uh-huh,” Harry said into Sirius’ chest. “Thank you so much for my watch, it’s brilliant.”

“You’re welcome. I thought it would be a little joke between us, you know, since you meddled with time to save my life.”

Harry grinned, and reluctantly let go as Sirius pulled back. “I didn’t think of that. Talking of time, how did you get back here so quick for my birthday?”

“Actually, I didn’t. Dumbledore told me about your, um, situation with old Snape and I thought I’d better be around in case things got ugly.”

“Sirius! What if you’d been caught?”

“You expected me to trust Snivellus Snape with my godson?” Sirius said, eyebrows raised. “No, I flew straight back the moment I heard. Then Dumbledore told me Snape was throwing you a birthday party, so I talked him into telling Snape he was dogsitting for a friend so I could see what was going on. I have to say though … it hasn’t exactly been what I expected.”

“I know. You don’t have to worry, Sirius. Snape’s taken care of me brilliantly.”

“Hmm,” Sirius said. “Coming from you, that means a lot. You promise I have nothing to worry about?”

“Nothing. I promise. He’s been really good.”

“Snape’s been really good.”

“Yes, he has. He tricked my relatives so I could get away from them during the day; he’s fed me, given me money, entertained me, helped me try to get over a fear, stayed up all night with me when I had food poisoning, and now he’s thrown me a bloody birthday party! You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“I guess not,” Sirius said slowly. “Well … just keep me informed, all right? If he does anything to hurt you—”

“I’ll be fine, Sirius.”

They hugged again. Harry felt he could get used to this, and the thought scared him.

“C’mon, we’d better get back down before we’re missed,” Sirius said heavily. “You might have a job telling everyone what you were doing in a bathroom with a dog.”

“I’ll just say you followed me up here and I couldn’t get rid of you.”

Sirius turned back, and Harry let them out.

-

“Never have I ever …” Fred grinned wickedly, eyes fixed on Ron. “Screamed like a baby when I saw a spider.”

“I’ll get you for that,” Ron muttered as he, along with about a third of the circle, jumped to their feet. Fred made a dive for his chair.

After Musical Chairs, anyone would have thought that the party had had their fill of chair-swapping games, but apparently not. Everyone standing rushed towards a free seat, leaving Hermione the last one standing.

She looked as smug as Fred as she said, “Never have I ever cheated in an exam.”

For a moment everyone remained absolutely still. Harry tried to hide his grin, knowing Hermione was getting George back for his earlier “Never have I ever fantasised about kissing Ron”.

Before the forfeit could kick in, George, scowling at her, got to his feet, as did his twin. Before Hermione could make a dash for one of the free seats, a yelp came from behind them.

Professor McGonagall jumped to her feet, her hair on fire. It disappeared the moment she was up, and for a split second everyone was frozen, before all at once they dived for chairs.

“Professor!” Hermione gasped, shocked.

“You cheated?” Fred and George said in unison, sounding awed.

“Divination OWL,” Professor McGonagall mumbled with her hands over her reddening face. “I rigged the crystal ball.”

“And on that note,” Dumbledore said, stepping in quickly, “perhaps we should wrap this up and attend to our grumbling stomachs.”

-

Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a good time. By time the five birthday cakes (one each from the Weasleys, Hermione, Hagrid, Sirius … and Snape) had been finished with, he was feeling extremely full and sleepy. In addition to the mini pizzas, crisps, cheese puffs, trifle and ice cream, he’d also eaten a slice of each cake.

“Let me put those cakes away for you, dear,” Mrs Weasley said, picking up the nearest two, one in each hand. “Severus, where can I put them?”

“Just leave them on the bench. There’s cling film on the table.”

Mrs Weasley headed towards the kitchen. Snape picked up the pile of dirty plates. Dumbledore started gathering the mostly empty food platters. “Severus, do you need us to take any food off your hands?”

Snape cast an eye over the rest of the leftovers. “There’s not that much. I’m sure Potter and I can finish it up tomorrow.”

“You’ll be living on cake for days, though,” Ron pointed out.

“You’re all welcome to take a slice home,” Harry said.

“Yes! Thanks! Mum, can you bring those back?”

-

One by one, each of Harry’s friends left via Portkey, magically whisked off home in the blink of an eye.

“You never told us what’s the deal with Snape,” Ron said in Harry’s ear as they hugged goodbye. “Why’s he suddenly being so nice to you?”

“When I figure it out,” Harry promised, “I’ll let you know.”

“You’d better. And you’d better stop being so evasive in your letters, too,” Ron said pointedly as he stepped back. “See you soon, mate.”

“See you.”

The Weasleys disappeared, the last ones to go. Harry sagged, suddenly realising how close he was to falling asleep.

Snape’s hands suddenly gripped his shoulders, apparently worried that Harry was going to keel over. “Tired?”

“Knackered.” Harry sank into a chair and wrapped his arms around his bloated stomach.

“Tummy ache?”

“Ow. Yes. You haven’t poisoned me again, have you?” Harry tried to joke.

Snape tutted. “I think it’s much more likely to be an over-consumption of cake, Mr Potter. You have a far smaller appetite than I and I would find it difficult to manage five slices on top of what you’d already had. What on earth possessed you—”

Harry mumbled quietly.

“I’m sorry?”

“I said I didn’t want to offend anyone.”

Snape paused, a strange expression on his face. “Offend … Potter, what are you talking about?”

“Well, I didn’t know there’d be cake, much less five! So I filled up on the other stuff, but then you all turned the lights out and brought them in …”

“Yes,” Snape said slowly. “And?”

“And, well, you’d each brought me one, so I didn’t want anyone to feel like I was choosing someone else’s cake over theirs—”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Potter,” Snape said with a sigh. “You wouldn’t have offended anyone, and I think you rather alarmed most of us by forcing down five, somewhat generous slices of very rich cake.”

“I didn’t cut the cakes up.”

“I’m aware of that, but if you were so intent on trying every one the least you could have done is asked Molly Weasley for a small slice of each.”

“I … didn’t think of it.”

“Obviously.”

“Why are you so upset?” Harry asked, confused. “You’ve been pretty generous with the portions when you make me food.”

“Maybe compared with your relatives; and only to a point. Don’t blame me if it all comes back up in the night.”

Harry sank down lower in the chair, now heartily embarrassed. He should have known better than to expect Snape to understand. Harry never took anything for granted. How could he have refused anything, when someone had gone to such trouble to give it to him?

“Anyway,” Snape said, changing the subject. “I told your aunt this morning that I needed you overnight again, so you can stay over. Why don’t you take your presents upstairs? You can keep them in the spare room.”

-

Harry set the last wooden Hippogriff in place, and then stepped back to admire his work.

His clothes were all put away neatly in drawers and the wardrobe. His wireless was on the window-sill next to the figurines. He’d tacked his posters, with Snape’s permission, onto the wall. His watch was on his wrist, but he would leave it on the bedside table when he returned to the Dursleys. His books and the rest of the items were either tidily in drawers on arranged neatly on the shelves.

The spare room, which had been very bare when Harry had first seen it, now actually looked lived-in.

Lived in …

The thought sent a shiver down his spine, and he did his best to shake it off.

He couldn’t afford to start thinking like that. He didn’t live here; he was just a guest. One Snape didn’t even really want around.

Harry tried to put the idea out of his head, and turn his attention to something else. His stomach was hurting more now, his waistband digging into him. He removed his jeans and pulled on a pair of pyjama trousers, which were much more comfortable, and selected one of his new books to read.

He had just settled himself on the bed and begun the first page, when there was a knock on the half-open door. “Potter?”

“Yes?”

Snape pushed it open and entered, carrying a mug. “Good book?”

“Barely started.” Harry put it down. “What’s that?”

Snape held the mug out to him. It smelled very strange, like something that could be found in the potions lab. Harry didn’t want to know what was in it. “Herbal tea. For your stomach. Drink it slowly.”

“Thanks.” Harry felt a warm glow of affection again as he took it, and sipped it gently. The bitter taste almost made him gag, but he repressed the urge. For the millionth time, he wondered at the length Snape had gone for him again. Being ill from food poisoning was one thing; from over-eating was another. After the rebuke downstairs, Harry had been sure Snape felt he was deserving of discomfort, since he had brought it on himself.

Or maybe Snape just didn’t want to be woken by him vomiting again.

Snape looked around the room in curiosity while Harry sipped the tea. “You’ve … organised it all well.”

“Thanks.”

For a moment Harry wondered if Snape had been about to say something else. Snape seemed to shake himself, and then looked back at Harry. “Are you planning to stay there all evening?”

“Um … yeah, if that’s okay.”

Snape nodded. “Of course it is. Just make sure you go to sleep at a sensible hour; you’ve had a long day. I will check on you in a while.”

Harry nodded. “Okay.”

“Night, Potter.” Snape was almost out of the door when he added, “Happy birthday.”

Harry smiled, and listened to Snape return downstairs before picking up his book again. He tried to absorb himself in the plot, which was a good one, but in the back of his mind he kept thinking lived in.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he told himself sternly. “If you start having thoughts like that you’ll ruin everything.”

He was afraid, however, that the longing had already taken root.