Harry wasn’t sure what to expect for his birthday this year. But it sure as hell wouldn’t be a gathering at the Burrow—not now that he lived with Draco and Severus. As he prepared their breakfast, he fancied they could all go away for the day. Maybe they could pack some food and have a picnic somewhere. Or perhaps there wouldn’t be anything this year, he thought as he measured flour to prepare pancakes.

No—if Saturnine had a say in it, something would be planned for the day. A surprise would be sprung upon him at the last second. He would just have to wait to find out what.

The dough was resting when Saturnine entered the kitchen. It was a bit early for her, but Harry wasn’t surprised that she’d wanted to corner him alone.

“Good morning, birthday boy,” she said.

She came straight at him, and he barely had time to wipe his hands on his apron when she engulfed him in a tight hug and kissed him on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Harry.”

She pulled back a little but kept holding him by the shoulders. “Seventeen,” she marvelled. “You’re all grown up now.”

Harry smiled. He didn’t feel any different, but he knew what seventeen meant in their world. He was an adult now, and the Magical Trace placed on all wizarding children had been lifted from him. Now, he was free to practice magic anywhere and anytime he wanted.

He shrugged. “I don’t feel the difference.”

Saturnine smiled a knowing smile. “Well, age is but a number,” she informed him.

He chuckled at that. “Sounds like something an old person would say.”

She playfully punched him in the shoulder a little. “Just you wait until you get a bit older. We’ll see how you feel about that.”

With everything that had happened recently, opportunities for the two of them to spend time alone had been few. Severus’ health had taken a beating at the cemetery. While it hadn’t been as bad as two months ago, and his magic was still there, Saturnine spent a lot of time nursing him back to health.

It felt wonderful to have her to himself for a little while, and Harry indulged in it a little. Merlin, he berated himself. He sounded like a needy child. He was an adult now, wasn’t he? He didn’t need a mother anymore; he was all grown up. When the implication of that statement sunk in, he felt as if he’d just been doused in cold water.

The anguish that had taken hold of him must have shown on his face, for Saturnine grabbed him a little more strongly. “Harry, what is it?” she asked as she tried to catch his gaze.

“Nothing,” he muttered around the lump in his throat. “It’s all good.”

“No, lad—what is it?” One of her hands left his shoulder to come up and brush his cheek. “You just thought of something. Tell me what?”

“I—I...” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words. “I’m an adult now, aren’t I? I—I guess I don’t need a—legal guardian anymore; do I?” he asked, unable to use the word ‘mother’ in that sentence. He knew, deep down, that he would always feel the need to have one, no matter how old he was.

“You think that I won’t give the adoption papers to the Ministry now,” she said. “Oh, Harry—your age changes nothing about how I feel about you. I loved you when you were sixteen, and I still love you now that you’re seventeen.”

Harry felt a massive wave of relief wash over him and the beginning of tears pooling in his eyes. He couldn’t speak and could only nod.

“I still want you, Harry,” Saturnine assured him. She placed a palm on his chest, covering the silver necklace with the S-shaped pendant that still hung there. Harry had tried to return it earlier in the summer. But Saturnine had refused, saying it was his now that it had saved his life. “I will always be there for you—even when you are grey and old.”

***

Draco had had no idea that today was Harry’s birthday. But he figured something was up the moment he entered the kitchen. It was Severus that gave it away; his godfather was all dressed up. He wore a white undershirt underneath his habitual black frock coat. The only thing missing was his long teaching robes, and he would be ready to return to Hogwarts. Before this summer, Draco had never seen him wearing anything other than this professorial suit of armour, and Draco wondered at its return.

“Are we going out?” he asked as he took his place at the kitchen table.

Harry had made pancakes again, he noticed—chocolate chip. The Gryffindor’s favourite kind.

“As a matter of fact, we are,” Saturnine replied as she sat down opposite him.

Draco had the intense feeling that something was going on that he wasn’t aware of. Severus was all dressed up, Harry had an unshakeable smile etched at the corner of his mouth, and Saturnine clearly knew their plans for the day. Only, no one had bothered telling him about them.

He feigned nonchalance. “Looks like it will be warm today,” he said. “I hope wherever we are going, they know how to use cooling spells—or they have air conditioning.”

Severus snorted by his side. He’d tried to hide it, but everyone heard it anyway. And Draco wasn’t sure how to interpret the fact that he’d wanted to be discreet about it. A glance at Saturnine answered his question. She was staring at her brother with a raised eyebrow and looked minutes away from scolding the man. Draco got the feeling that his godfather had been told to be on his best behaviour wherever they were going. And that piqued his curiosity. He figured his best way to find out would be to ask Harry. The goody-two-shoes Gryffindor would be easier to crack than the Snape siblings.

“So, what do you reckon?” he asked.

Harry shrugged over his cup of tea. “No idea,” he replied after he’d swallowed a mouthful. “Don’t know where we’re going. It’s a surprise.”

Draco huffed. A surprise—what were they, ten?

“Today’s Harry’s birthday,” Saturnine informed him as she slid a large pancake onto her plate. “We’ve organised a little something.”

Draco felt the bite of pancake he was in the middle of swallowing catch in his throat. No one had even bothered wishing him a Happy Birthday when he’d turned seventeen, let alone organising something—not that it mattered. He’d had no idea today was Harry’s, though. And he hadn’t gotten him anything. Not that he could have afforded it, even if he’d wanted to, broke as he was.

He coughed a little before reaching for his tea and swallowing a mouthful. “Happy birthday, then,” he said, hoping that it came out as if he meant it.

Harry’s smile hadn’t left his lips. “Thanks.”

“We’ll be leaving as soon as breakfast is over,” Saturnine indicated.

“All of us?” Draco asked, glancing around.

“Obviously,” Severus drawled out over the rim of his teacup. He seemed equally overjoyed to have been roped into attending his least favourite student’s ‘Happy Seventeenth’ surprise shindig.

“Do you know where we are going?” Draco asked him.

A second typical Snape-ish, “Obviously,” tumbled from his godfather’s pinched lips.

“Don’t bother asking them,” Harry said. “They won’t spill the beans. We’ll just have to wait.”

Saturnine chuckled at his side. And Draco went on pretending not to care as the breakfast dragged on.

They were ready to go an hour later. Harry had cleaned up as best he could, donning one of his nicest shirts and doing his utmost to tame his untameable nest of brown hair. Saturnine wore her usual combination of denim jeans and hoodie—a strawberry-coloured one today—and her hair was braided into its typical plait, which she’d tossed over one shoulder. A ray of sunshine caught on one of her earrings, and Draco realised they were back on. It was the same shiny pair she had worn during her time at Hogwarts, and he was surprised to see them. Aside from the bracelet she always wore, she hadn’t worn any jewellery for the entire summer.

“Ready?” she asked.

Draco nodded. Next to him, Harry was practically bouncing from foot to foot. Saturnine reached for the eager birthday boy’s hand, and Severus held out his arm for him to grab.

Harry and Saturnine were gone in a flash.

“Behave,” Severus instructed as his long, lean fingers wrapped around Draco’s forearm. Then they Apparated away.

Draco wasn’t sure what he expected, but it definitely wasn’t that. They landed in a vast expanse of mostly trimmed grass at the front of a crooked house that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. Well—he supposed it was a house; it looked like its floors had been haphazardly piled upon each other, with little regard for taste and aesthetics.

Saturnine and Harry seemed familiar with the grounds, and they led the way, walking along the length of the odd building to round its corner instead of entering by the front door. Harry was beaming as if it was Christmas and his birthday all at once. Draco followed with a bemused expression.

Their location soon became evident once he caught sight of the sheer number of ginger-haired heads amassed around a long, rectangular picnic table at the back of the house. It seemed like the entire Weasley Clan was there. And Draco did his best to hide his displeasure, slipping on a mask of polite indifference.

A short, plump woman with long, wavy red hair that could only be Mrs Weasley rushed forward to greet them. “Look, everyone—they’re here!” she huffed out between two breaths.

Draco felt himself stiffen as all heads turned their way.

Mrs Weasley made a beeline for Harry, and she engulfed him in what seemed to be a painfully tight hug before releasing him and kissing both of his cheeks loudly. “Happy birthday, Harry,” she said. “Happy, happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Mrs Weasley,” Harry said while a deep crimson blush spread to his cheeks.

And then the woman did something that surprised the pants out of Draco: she turned to him with an equally bright smile. He was about to politely extend his hand to greet her, but she took two quick steps towards him and engulfed him in a tight bear hug. He was too surprised to do anything to stop her. And before he knew it, she was kissing his cheeks and saying, “And happy birthday to you, too, Draco—even though I hear we’re a couple of weeks late.”

He was too shocked to say anything, and he coughed awkwardly.

Then everyone else was coming up to them, wishing Harry a happy birthday before turning to him to offer similar good wishes. Ron and Hermione were first. And while the weasel’s wishes lacked enthusiasm, the girl’s sounded heartfelt. The rest of the Weasley Clan followed suit, introducing themselves as they greeted him. Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood brought up the rear. The latter kissed him on the cheek before telling him that the Nargles were smiling down on him today—whatever that meant.

A couple of adults were present, too, and Draco recognised all of them to be members of Dumbledore’s not-so-secret Order of the Phoenix. Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, former Auror Alastor Moody, and Ministry employee Kingsley Shacklebolt. Even his Transfiguration teacher Minerva McGonagall was there. And they all had a kind word for him.

Soon enough, groups started to form in the Weasley garden, and Draco breathed a little easier. It had been hard being the centre of attention—and completely unexpected. He wasn’t sure how to feel about all that. He certainly never expected to feel included in this day. This was Harry’s birthday party—or it should have been. But somehow, everyone had been told that he’d turned seventeen recently, and there were two piles of gifts at the end of the picnic table.

Draco never once in a million years thought these people would want to wish him a happy—anything. He’d been awful to Ron and Hermione for years and said the worst things possible about the Weasley family. Yet here they were, trying hard to make him feel included and sharing jokes with him and stories about their respective summers.

Draco had never been more thankful for his strict upbringing and endless lectures about etiquette and proper behaviour in society. It was all he could do to keep from crumbling underneath the feelings of discomfort and embarrassment.

He was in the middle of the weirdest conversation he’d ever had in his life with Luna Lovegood when his godfather materialised at his side.

“Ms Lovegood,” Severus politely greeted her.

She turned one of her hazy smiles his way. “Professor Snape.”

“Do you mind if I steal Draco for a minute?” he demanded. She readily accepted, drifting away as if her attention had been caught by something only her eyes could see.

Draco appreciated the save and followed Severus inside the house through a backdoor that led them to the kitchen and further inside until they reached a cramped living room.

The silence was a nice reprieve from the raucous crowd outside, and Draco let out a deep breath.

“Are you quite all right?” Severus asked, looking down at him with evident concern.

Draco shook his head. “Actually, I’m not quite sure how to feel,” he admitted. “What’s going on here?”

“It’s easy,” his godfather explained. “We appear to have missed your birthday, and we thought we’d make it up to you.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” he demanded.

“Saturnine and myself,” Severus replied.

“You arranged this?”

He nodded. “Well, that was mostly Saturnine.”

That explained a few things, and Draco felt safe enough to ask the question that had been eating at him the entire morning. “Do they really want me here?”

One of Severus’ hands came up to his shoulder, holding it in a tight grip. “I believe my sister explained the recent changes to them,” Severus said, carefully weighing his words. “They are mostly Gryffindors, as you noticed. They do not hold onto rancour the way we Slytherins do. And they are far more trusting. In their world, actions speak louder than words. You have saved Harry—at a great personal cost. That means something to them.” He paused before adding, “To answer your question, yes, I believe their intentions to be honest. However, if you wish to go home, you only need to let me know.”

Draco was glad to learn he had a choice. But now that he knew this wasn’t a farce, he breathed a bit easier. “It’s all right. I think I’ll stay a little while longer,” he explained. “It’s Harry’s birthday, after all, and I want to be there for that.”

Draco thought the conversation was over, but Severus leaned in slightly and caught his eye. “It’s your birthday, too,” he said. And his voice lost its assurance as he added, “I am deeply sorry to have missed yours. With everything that happened and the state I was in, it slipped my mind.”

He meant it. Draco could see it in his eyes, and he felt his heart brimming with something comforting and warm. “It’s quite all right,” he said. “It’s not that big a deal.”

And indeed, his birthdays had never been meaningful. Each extravaganza was only a perfunctory performance put on by the House of Malfoy—a tacky display allowing them to show how wealthy and affluent they were. They had never been fun gatherings around a picnic table where everyone was free to speak their mind and tell jokes. And they had most definitely never had any of the Weasley twins’ products exploding between drinks.

Severus’ free hand came up to brush at his cheek, the gesture inordinately forward and gentle. Draco leaned into his touch.

“It is something,” he said. “You’re seventeen now.”

Heaving in a deep breath, Severus recited in his velvety baritone the traditional wizarding wishes that a father was supposed to tell his son on his seventeenth birthday before leaning in and kissing Draco on the forehead first, then once on each cheek.

Draco felt his eyes welling up as the meaning behind the gesture registered. And his voice wobbled as he recited his answering stanza—the words a son was supposed to tell his father as he turned seventeen.

***

Severus was glad when the guests parted into two neat groups in the afternoon: the kids on one side and the adults on the other. A few mismatched chairs had been assembled in a quiet corner underneath large oak trees, and the adults reconvened there with glasses of liquor while the children stayed near the picnic table where the chatter was kept to an annoyingly high level.

Despite the distance, he kept an eye on the boys and saw that Draco was in the middle of a discussion with the oldest Weasley, Charlie. He wasn’t surprised to see that he’d sought the company of the elder ones rather than the others. Charlie and Bill were strangers to him. There was no bad blood between them, and it was undoubtedly easier for Draco to engage with them than the others.

At the opposite end of the table, Harry was chatting animatedly with Ron and Hermione and the youngest Ms Weasley. His hands flew about left and right. And Severus surmised that they had to be talking about Quidditch.

The adults had separated into smaller groups, too. Arthur Weasley, Shacklebolt, and Moody sat together, talking shop. Minerva and Saturnine were conspicuously absent, probably having absconded to some dark corner to discuss Hogwarts business and the upcoming school year. Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks seemed happy to be longingly gazing into each other’s eyes—and wasn’t that quaint?

“Everything all right, dear?” Molly Weasley asked as she arrived with a large slice of chocolate cake on a plate in one hand and a glass of digestive in the other.

“Quite,” he replied appreciatively. “Thank you, Molly, for organising this.”

Balancing the plate and drink in one hand for a moment, she dragged a chair closer and sat down next to him. “How are you, dear?” she asked, patting him on the knee.

Severus felt himself blush a little. Though the witch was only a few years older than he was, she had always treated him as if he were one of her children. While the attitude had annoyed him at first, he had grown rather fond of it over the years.

He gave her an honest answer. “I’m all right, Molly, thanks. It’s been an intense summer, but it turned out okay in the end.”

“That’s good to hear, dear,” she said, patting his knee one last time before retreating her hand. Then she pushed the plate with the slice of cake in his hand. “There, I noticed you didn’t get any earlier.”

It wasn’t long until Minerva and Saturnine returned, and the two easily engaged in animated discussions with Molly and Lupin, respectively. Severus was content to stay out of it, listening in as his gaze alternated between looking at them and observing the two seventeen-year-old wizards enjoying themselves at the picnic table.

Severus always delighted in sitting out on discussions and watching guests interact instead; it was ever so informative. Much could be learned by looking at how people moved and interacted with their peers. The distance at which they stood, the way their body was angled, the position of their hands—these small signals were nuggets of information to a man such as him. Severus was so used to collecting them everywhere he went that it was second nature to him now.

As he briefly scanned their group, he noticed something that confirmed one of his earlier assumptions—Remus Lupin and his sister were much closer than they should be. They chatted in hushed tones at the opposite end of their gathering, animatedly discussing something. Saturnine’s stance was open and unguarded, a clear sign that she trusted the person facing her. She was smiling, her happiness genuine. Lupin seemed equally at ease in her presence as if they were long-time friends. Then Saturnine said something that had the werewolf blushing, of all things. Twin blotches of crimson bloomed on the man’s cheeks as he looked down before quickly glancing to his left, where Tonks was playfully wrestling with Moody.

There was a story there, Severus realised—a story that he didn’t know. His curiosity was piqued. He vowed to discover all he could about the relationship between his sister and his Hogwarts nemesis. And given the amount of liquor going around—and the presence of both Molly Weasley and Minerva McGonagall—he was sure to wrangle something out of the two gossipy women before nightfall.