The day of Harry's birthday had finally arrived. Harry had been ecstatic when I told him he could have his friends over, and thus he made a small list of people he wanted to come on the evening of his birthday. He hadn't wanted anything big, and so the party was confined to Black, Lupin, and the Weasleys. Hermione of course had returned to the house for his birthday as well, as she had left to spend some time with her family shortly after I was re-aged. Draco had been very disappointed that she was leaving, and he had been looking forward to Harry's birthday just as much as Harry was due to the fact that Hermione would be back. I briefly wondered if Hermione had been looking forward to her return as much as Draco. They were painfully obvious when it came to their feelings.

      The sound of laughter drifted through the kitchen window as I poked candles into Harry's cake. Mrs. Weasley had kindly sent me a recipe, and it actually turned out fairly well. I had given Harry a little taste to make sure it wasn't atrocious and judging by the fact that he didn't turn green I did alright. So, I proudly surveyed my handiwork as I put the candles in, making sure I put them in straight and didn't ruin the picture iced on top. Draco had been very helpful and iced a dinosaur onto the cake for Harry, as we thought it would amuse him. I was surprised by Draco's cake decorating ability, and when I asked him where he learned such skills he said he had sometimes iced cakes with Dobby when Narcissa was trying to get him out of her hair. I wondered why he had never told me this, but I supposed it wasn't entirely important.

      I was shaken out of my thoughts when Black strode into the kitchen. He wasn't looking his usual self; he seemed more tired, and he deflated slightly when he saw me. We stood, staring at each other a moment, my hand frozen mid air with a candle poised above the sticky icing.

     "Snape," said Black, nodding his head in my direction.

     "What do you want?" I asked a little more harshly than I had intended to. I jabbed the last candle into the cake.

        "I, er," stuttered Black.

       "Well?" I said, expectantly.

       "Do you remember what happened while you were de-aged?" he asked quickly.

       "Mostly ... why?" I asked, scrutinizing him for signs of mockery.

       "What about that night I visited?" he asked apprehensively.

       I stiffened. Oh yes, I remembered it. I wondered what he was getting to.

       "Yes," I muttered, letting my eyes trace the graceful swoop of the green iced letters over the dark brown chocolate icing.

        All was silent for what felt like a long time, until Black finally opened his mouth and spat something out that had clearly been bothering him.

       "Has that always been your boggart?"

       "I don't see why it matters," I said sharply. But if you're asking: only until the Dark Lord found out about the prophecy, and then I saw my love lying cold and dead on the floor. But you wouldn't care would you?

       "It does matter, to me," Black said uncomfortable.

       "Why?" I asked, narrowing my eyes and wondering what he was up to.

        "Because it means ... " he began. "It means we have more in common than I thought. I didn't ... I shouldn't have .... "

        "Get to the point Black," I said with a scowl.

        "I never really saw you as an equal, but we're not so different ... in some ways."

        "No," I said, still examining the icing.

        "What we did to you wasn't right," said Black suddenly, almost sounding a little bewildered with himself.

        "If you're saying that simply because my home life wasn't exactly rainbows and unicorns you can take your wand and-"

        "It wasn't right," Black interrupted. "It just took a boggart to make me see how much worse we made things. Maybe I feel bad for how we treated you. With your father on top of it all, it couldn't have been easy," he continued rather bitterly as though he knew from experience.

       "I don't need your pity Black," I said defensively.

       "I don't pity you," he said, rather frustrated. "I just think I understand you a little more now."

       "Well, you get more confusing every day," I said under my breath. Any more epiphanies you would like to share?

       "Harry really looks up to you," Black said suddenly. Oh joy, he does have another.

       I did not reply.

       "I never thought I would say this, but I think Molly was right," he mumbled rather exasperatedly.

       "About what?" I asked.

       "Er, you're okay to Harry, I suppose," he muttered. "You're not too bad a guardian to him."

       "Well Black, I'm around more so-" I began before I realised he might have actually been trying to pay me a compliment.

       "Look Snape, I don't want to be you friend," Black cut me off. He took a deep breath before proceeding. "I just wanted you to know that I think I'm okay with you being Harry's guardian. Like Molly said, he needs us both. Whether we like it or not."

       "Molly is often right," I said, having cooled down slightly as I thought over Black's last statement. I wondered briefly if Black had somehow gotten a hold of an enlightenment elixir or something of that nature. It wasn't like him to use more than one brain cell by the days end, and for once he seemed to be thinking rationally. Quite frankly it astounded me.

       "She is, not that I like to admit it," Black said grudgingly, slow brain cells still computing the dilemma of Molly's seemingly infinite wisdom.

       "So ..." I drawled, wondering where to go next. I decided to be brutally honest. "Does this mean we're not allowed to hate each other anymore?"

       "Nah, go right ahead and hate me," Black said. "Though I think we should tone down our, er, rivalry a little, at least around Harry. You can hate me just as much as ever though. I deserve it ..."

       I deserve your hate as much, I thought grimly. I'm the reason Lily is gone, the reason your best friend is gone.

       "I guess what I'm trying to say, is ... I'm sorry Snape ... for everything. It's mostly my fault anyway, I started a lot of it."

        I looked up, his apology ringing through my ears strangely. I never thought I'd hear those words from Black's mouth. Ever. I could understand him hinting that he had done wrong, but openly admitting that he, not his friends, but he himself did wrong? Never. Never in a million years. In a moment I realised that I hadn't known I'd been waiting for an apology, but I had been.

       "I er, guess I'd better return to the party," Black said awkwardly, turning around.

       "Wait, Black," I called to him hesitantly.

      He paused in the doorway and turned to look at me, and I looked down slightly.

       "Thank you," I said quietly, knowing that if someone had told me, even yesterday, that I would thank Sirius Black for something, I would have raged like a lunatic. And yet, here I was, willingly thanking that arse for finally admitting he had treated my badly. I shook my head slightly and looked up to find Black still frozen in front of me. He then turned around, but before he did so I saw a slight flicker of relief pass over his face. Though it was gone in an instant, and he left the room, leaving me in dumbstruck silence. And again I reflected on the fact that I had so strongly believed up until a moment ago that Sirius Black would never apologise for anything, let alone mean it. My belief was no longer, for something had changed him. And still, I could not shake the feeling that it had everything to do with the long ago boggarts of two little boys.

        ***

             "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Harry, happy birthday to you!" sang Harry's  guests as he stared happily overtop the sixteen shining candles.

      "Make a wish Harry!" Hermione said.

      "Go on," said Draco.

      Harry looked thoughtful, then puzzled for a moment. But after a moment he shrugged his shoulders and blew out his candles. I wondered briefly what he wished for, but knew better to ask, as most people take it ridiculously seriously and refuse to say their wish for fear it won't come true.

      Molly dished out the cake for everyone. Draco was the first to take a bite, and, being the drama queen that he was he gagged, fell to the ground and pretended to be poisoned. Molly looked at me, horrified until Harry pointed out that he was laughing rather than shaking in convulsions. After that everyone dug in, albeit hesitantly.

      "Careful Draco," I warned, "or you might just find some real poison in your cake one of these days."

      "You wouldn't poison me," he said, though he did sound slightly unsure.

      "You'll find out if you don't behave," I replied as Harry sniggered at Draco.

      Much to my surprise the cake was actually quite well received, though Black did congratulate me on the lack of casualties as he clapped Harry on the back and sauntered out the door in his usual cocky manner. It was then I knew he was back to normal; Mr. Sensitive had left the building. That was something I was glad for, as one moment of understanding between us was enough for another twenty years, thank you very much.

        ***

      When the Weasleys had finally departed, I was left to tidy up a little. Weary from the night's socializing (or the attempts to avoid it) I folded the table cloth with my newly made wand and brought it upstairs to the cupboard at the end of the hallway.

      I opened the cupboard door and cleared my throat, as I had found an interesting sight within it. I kicked myself, knowing I should have seen this coming, especially since I had yet to install shelves in the cupboard.

      I sighed wearily; Draco and Hermione were the sight in the cupboard that I was referring to. Their arms were around each other, and they were kissing quite enthusiastically. At the squawk of the cupboard hinges they noticed that I was standing there, and with a slight gasp the pushed apart. Draco's hair was messed up in the back and blush was slowly creeping up his neck, Hermione looked no better. The only thing I had to thank was the fact that they were both fully clothed.

           I stood there, looking as menacing as I could while holding a checkered table cloth.  

      They stared at me in fear, having moved as far away from each other as possible and trying to make it look as though what I had just seen had not happened.

      "Er," Draco muttered. "Hi."

      "I wondered where you two got to," I frowned, pushing past them to put the tablecloth on the only shelf high up in the cupboard.

        "Oh," Hermione said faintly. The two looked at each other, confused.

      "Please refrain from locking lips in this cupboard," I drawled. "I have other uses for this cupboard."

      "Okay," they both muttered, dumbstruck.

      And with that I turned on my heel, internally sniggering at the stupid looks on their faces. Sometimes it was better to keep things simple. 

      "Wait, so you're okay with it?" Draco burst out.

      "If you must," I sighed, knowing that there really was nothing I could do about who they were attracted to. "But no cupboards. And if you do anything remotely stupid I will have you scrubbing cauldrons for so long that your grandchildren will be helping you. Oh yes, and don't make Harry feel awkward when he's with you two."

       "Sure thing Severus," Draco said, sounding rather chipper and quite frankly relieved.

       "Now, I'd suggest you get home Hermione," I told her, looking at my watch.

       "I suppose so," she said, still looking rather embarrassed, but I could see out of the corner of my eye that she was grinning at Draco. 

       And with that I went out to sit on the porch swing, listening the the quiet laughter and goodbyes of Draco and Hermione drifting through the open window. I heard Harry say goodbye at some point as well, but he seemed to understand what was between the two, and came out to talk to me while they said one last ... goodbye.

      "I can't say I'm surprised," Harry said, rolling his eyes in the direction of the door as he sunk down on the porch swing beside me.

      "Subtle they are not," I muttered, glancing out at the stars.

      "Severus?" Harry asked, eyes appearing slightly wide in the darkness.

      "Yes?"

      "Can I tell you a secret?"

      "Certainly," I said, expecting Harry to confess his  love for Hermione, or at least something of that nature. I was surprised however.

     "I couldn't think of anything to wish for," he told me, frowning slightly. "I thought really hard but nothing came to me."

     "Really," I replied, letting him continue.

     "I think I know why now."

     "And what's your conclusion?" I asked curiously.

     "Well, I already got my wish, didn't I?" Harry said, eyes wandering around the porch.

     "A home?" I guessed.

     "No ..." Harry said slowly, falling into silent contemplation for a moment.

     "What then?" I asked, wondering what other wish could possibly have come true for him. 

      While I waited for his answer, a few throaty notes trickled through the wind as an owl soared across moonlit sky above. It disappeared from view, and in an instant my breath caught in my throat. But not because of the owl, or the soft trill of the crickets or even the way the stars shone in the sky. But because Harry finally completed his thought.

     "I got a Dad ..." he choked out, green eyes shining abnormally brightly in the moonlight.

     "Harry," I muttered, finding it hard to speak.

     "I love you Dad," he whispered, shaking a little as he leaned into me.

     "I ... I love you son," I replied, trying to keep the waver out of my voice as I put my arm tightly around his shoulder, trying to tell him all of the things I couldn't say with words. 

      It is funny, how in a split second one word can make your whole world shatter and reshape itself, until nothing is the same as it once was; such changes that one cannot foresee, but nonetheless make us who we are. The word that made my world fall to pieces and rebuild itself, was Dad.