V. Birthday Surprises

Harry sat at his desk, gazing at a picture and reminiscing. This in itself was not unusual; he often spent quiet evenings looking at the old photos of his parents Hagrid had given him just before his first summer back from Hogwarts.

However, it was not his parents' pictures he was looking at presently. Rather, he was staring at a very recent photo; it was a picture he would often pull out as the summer wore on, remembering a single, perfect moment.

Harry had been rather pleasantly surprised the day after the Ivory Ball when an owl carrying a parchment-wrapped parcel flew into his bedroom. He'd unwrapped the package, and was astonished to find a small stack of photographs—wizard photographs—of himself and Cho at the ball, dancing and looking for all the world like a very happy couple.

He should have realised there were probably some wizards at the ball. In fact, he now wondered if Mister Shiroto himself was a wizard.

He'd sorted the stack of pictures into a few piles; two shots of waltzes and two of the tango, he set aside to place in his own album, three more waltz shots were set aside to send to friends, and the last pair, one of the waltz and one of the tango, were to send to Cho. He then wrote a short thank you note and a request for extra prints if possible to the photographer, fished a couple Sickles from his money pouch to pay for them, and sent the owl back to its owner.

Just then, Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl, had fluttered in with a letter. Harry grinned; he'd never gotten around to telling Ron just who he'd invited to the ball...

Harry,
So, how was it? Was it boring? Who did you go with? Come on, mate, you've got to give me all the details!
By the way, Dumbledore's been setting things up for you to come stay. He says he'll probably come for you by Portkey right around your birthday. I've told him he shouldn't let the Muggles know he's coming. They always seem to codge things up somehow. Anyway, write back soon!
Ron

Grinning, Harry set about writing his own letter.

Ron,
The ball was a lot better than I thought it'd be. The Muggles were fairly dull, and most of the people looked so stuffy and all. But the music was okay, the food was good, and the dancing was...well, see for yourself. Turns out there was a wizard photographer at the ball, and he sent quite a few pictures.
Looking forward to coming to the Burrow later.
Harry

He wrapped up his note and one of the photos in some parchment, tied a bit of string around it, and gave it to Pig, who took off, hooting happily. He then prepared another parcel of photos, with a small note to Cho, and sent those off in Hedwig's care.

The next day, Pig came back with another letter from Ron.

Harry,
You went with CHO!? Bloody brilliant!
Ron

Even now, Harry laughed as he tried to imagine Ron's face when he saw the photo.

The summer dragged on, August fast approaching. The Dursleys were horrible as usual, but it didn't bother Harry as much as it normally would, because he was confident this would be the last summer he'd spend here, and he had the memory of the ball to keep him going, as well as the occasional letter from Ron or postcard from Hermione.

And, of course, he got a few letters from Cho as well.

Nobody would ever suspect there was anything out of the ordinary about Privet Drive. Indeed, in most respects, it was nothing more than a quiet, peaceful suburban lane, lined with two rows of neatly ordered houses, built along the same basic plan; lawns neatly cared for, porches swept, windows washed, nothing in the way of rubbish or misplaced toys scattered about.

The occasional car, bicycle, or pedestrian—never a motorcycle, never a skateboarder, not here—passed along the street, quiet as you please; it wouldn't do to raise a din on Privet Drive. Nothing untidy, noisy, or unusual would be tolerated by most of the residents; particularly the family dwelling at Number Four. A respectable neighbourhood had no patience for anything scandalous or out of sorts.

On this cloudless day in late July, Privet Drive seemed as quiet and respectable as ever. A small red car trundled down the lane, the post was delivered with minimal fuss, and a small child rode his bicycle along the sidewalk, never straying into the grass, making no sound whatsoever.

On the side of the street opposite the child, a teenage girl walked up the lane at a casual pace. She was extremely pretty, with delicate, graceful features: long, voluminous black hair bounced and bobbed with each step; warm, brown, slightly almond-shaped eyes glanced at the houses she passed over a cute nose and pretty pink lips; she was sleek and fit, with slender yet toned legs and arms, and an enviable figure. Her skin tone, as well as her eyes, spoke of Asian ancestry, which was not terribly common in this part of the country, but certainly not unheard of.

Her clothes were somewhat plain yet tasteful; coral-coloured sandals with inch-thick soles and slightly raised heels, a midnight blue denim skirt which swished about her thighs, and a powder-blue knit top with a design on the chest: a tiny gold ball with two silver wings.

This was the one aspect of her appearance which might define her as something out of the ordinary, if those who lived on Privet Drive recognised its meaning. Fortunately for her, very few would.

She reached Number Four, stopped, and approached the house. Striding up onto the porch, she raised a hand toward the bell...and paused, as if wracked with indecision. A slender hand went to her mouth, fingertips pressed to her lips, which were pursed as if in deep contemplation.

After nearly a full minute of debate, she reached for the bell, pressed it, and waited.

"Get the door, boy," Aunt Petunia called from the kitchen. She had taken up the task of making the "rabbit food" the household was forced to endure for the sake of her son Dudley's girth more palatable without defeating the purpose of the diet. So far, her efforts had not been entirely successful, and thus she rarely left the kitchen these days, forcing her nephew to do as many of the household chores as she could think of.

This summer, however, Harry Potter rarely complained about his chores, as the mind-numbing drudgery of the housework helped to take his mind off other things...and gave him time to think about things he found himself rather enjoying thinking about.

Harry, soon to be in his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had stood helplessly by and watched at the end of last term as a fellow student, a fellow champion, had fallen victim to Avada Kedavra—the Killing Curse—at the hands of Voldemort's servant, Wormtail. He'd been helpless to prevent the murder of Cedric Diggory, and helpless to stop Wormtail from using Harry's own blood to bring Voldemort back to power. For days, he'd been miserable, feeling guilty over the death of Cedric, heartbroken at the pain it had caused the girl he fancied, and guilt that he still fancied her despite the fact that she'd been Cedric's girlfriend.

Events earlier in the summer, however, had changed many things. He no longer felt quite as much guilt over Cedric's death. He felt determined to honour his fallen comrade by living life to its fullest—and so did she, who everyone had thought was Cedric's girlfriend, but who in fact had broken up with him only three days before his death.

And it looked as though, if things progressed further along the path they'd been all summer, Harry might just have a chance with a certain very pretty Ravenclaw Seeker.

Today was Harry's birthday; he was a bit puzzled at the fact that none of his friends had written him or sent him presents yet. Though he felt a bit silly feeling indignant about such things, it seemed a bit unusual that he hadn't heard from Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, or even Sirius at all. Nor had he heard from...

Pushing those thoughts aside, he hurried to the front door; if the bell chimed a second time, Aunt Petunia was liable to become cross. Not that anything the Dursleys said particularly bothered him anymore, but it was still an unpleasantness he liked to avoid whenever possible.

Shuffling into the entryway, he unlatched and opened the front door, and was about to offer a mechanical, unenthusiastic greeting to the visitor, when his eyes nearly fell out of his head. His mouth gaped open as his brain tried to process what he was seeing.

There, standing on the porch at Number Four, Privet Drive, was Cho Chang.

"Hullo, Harry," she said quietly, offering a small, somewhat nervous smile.

"Ch-Cho! Er, hi..." Waves of nervousness, nausea, giddiness, and other feelings washed over him at the sight of the pretty witch.

They stood there for a long moment, neither speaking. Aunt Petunia came to the door. "Who's there, boy?" she asked. Upon seeing Cho, she offered a false smile. "Ah, hello. The Chang girl, was it?"

Cho nodded. "That's right."

"What brings you here, then?" Aunt Petunia asked.

Cho flushed. "Er, I came to visit Harry. You know, since it's his birthday and all."

Aunt Petunia's smile faded just a bit. "I see."

"If..." Cho paused, frowning. "If it's an inconvenience....I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come without calling...."

Harry interrupted. "No! I'm glad you came. It's very nice of you to visit today. Isn't it, Aunt Petunia?"

Aunt Petunia's eyes hardened. "Yes. It's lovely." She gazed at her nephew. "Very well then. But I'd prefer the two of you not dally downstairs. You may take tea up, but please keep the noise down. Your cousin is watching his programmes, after all."

Harry smiled. "Come on, then," he said to Cho, inviting her inside and ushering her to the steps.

As they ascended out of sight, Aunt Petunia could be heard calling, "I trust there'll be no SNOGGING up there!"

* * * * *

Harry felt rather embarrassed. His horrible aunt had made Cho feel unwelcome (then again, Aunt Petunia scarcely made anyone feel welcome), and then suggested the two of them were going to get up to...

Quashing that thought with a loud clearing of his throat, he turned and stopped just at the foot of the steps. "Er," he began, blushing, "there's only one place in the house we'll be free of that."

Cho caught his meaning, and nodded, also a bit pink-cheeked. "Lead the way, then," she said.

The two of them ascended the stairs. As they reached the landing, Dudley waddled out of his bedroom. For a full year now, Dudley Dursley had been on a strict diet, imposed by the school nurse at Smeltings when the obese blonde boy reached such a tremendous width that the school outfitters no longer stocked knickerbockers which would fit him. Despite the best efforts of the school and his parents, however, Dudley had lost very little weight, and still looked to Harry to be as porky as he ever was.

Dudley's piggy eyes lighted upon Cho, and a strange leer crossed his face. Trotting forward as quickly as his legs would carry him, he shoved Harry aside and put on what he must have thought was his most charming, endearing smile. "Hello then," he said with an attempt at a bow which rather made it look like he was about to topple over.

Cho stared blankly at him.

Dudley seemed to be about to say something else, or perhaps attempt to kiss Cho's hand, when a soft voice intoned behind him, "Excuse me."

Dudley ignored Harry, and continued to simper in front of Cho. "You're very pretty. What's your name?" he asked.

Cho wrinkled her nose slightly in disgust. "I think you should apologise to Harry for pushing him like that. It was very rude."

Dudley blinked stupidly at her.

"Excuse me," Harry repeated.

The overweight boy turned to see his cousin glaring at him. "I don't think my friend appreciates the way you're acting. I daresay my other friends wouldn't appreciate it either."

It took Dudley a moment to catch his meaning. He paled, clutched at his fleshy bottom, and ran back to his bedroom, slamming the door.

Harry adjusted his glasses, which had been knocked askew when Dudley shoved him, then beckoned to Cho. "Hurry, before Aunt Petunia decides to harass us for hearing a door slam."

Slightly bewildered, Cho let Harry lead her to a door at the end of the hall. He opened it and let her walk through first, into a small, sparsely furnished bedroom, which was half crammed full of junk—mostly toys—that looked to have seen much better days.

Seemingly satisfied he wasn't about to be yelled at by his aunt, Harry returned his attention to his visitor. "Er...so, ah...hi."

Cho couldn't help but giggle a bit at that, which elicited a sheepish grin from Harry. "We already covered that at the door, didn't we?"

"So we did." Harry pulled out his desk chair for her, then seated himself upon the bed. "I'm really surprised to see you here." He flushed. "Not that I'm not glad, I am, I just wasn't expecting—"

Cho smiled. "It took a lot of convincing to get Ron Weasley not to spoil the surprise."

Harry's eyes widened. "Ron knew about this!?"

"Who do you think told me where you live, silly?" Cho giggled.

Harry shook his head and chuckled. He then hopped off the bed and knelt beside it, prying up a loose floorboard. Cho blinked at him, wondering what he was doing, and was about to ask exactly that when he stood up, holding two familiar bottles. "Is that butterbeer?" Cho asked.

Harry nodded, grinning, and offered one to her. "A house-elf named Dobby brings me a few things every week, to make sure I'm not being starved to death or anything." He rolled his eyes. "Believe me, it's a lifesaver, especially with Dudley's diet."

"So that—in the hall—was your cousin?" Cho asked, suppressing a shudder.

"Yeah. I told you he was a great whale."

"No kidding. I can almost see why they wouldn't let him go to the ball...and he's very rude."

Harry shrugged. "He's spoiled. My aunt and uncle never said 'no' to him in his entire life, and give him whatever he wants if he takes a fit."

Cho pulled a face. "How terrible." She took a long swig of her butterbeer, then brightened up. "But anyway. Happy birthday, Harry." She reached into a pocket of her skirt, and pulled out a slim, oblong, leather-tooled case, handing it to Harry.

He blinked. "For me?" He opened it, and his eyes widened. "Wow, Cho..."

Harry gingerly removed a gleaming pair of gold-rimmed spectacles from the case. They were round, much like the pair he currently wore, and sparkled in the light.

"They're the wizard variety. A lot better than those Muggle ones you have."

"Cho...I don't know what to say..." He looked up at her, gaping in awe. "I don't know if I can accept this..."

"Sure you can," Cho said, smirking. "It's your birthday, and that's your birthday present."

"But...they look so expensive..."

"They're not, really. Besides, the wizard eyeglass maker owed my dad a favour..." She shrugged. "Well, try them on, then."

Harry took off his battered, black-rimmed glasses and settled the new pair into place. He blinked for a moment, then looked around in wonder. "Whoa...I can see a lot better with these!"

Cho smiled. "The lenses are magical. They'll never need replacing. No matter how good or bad your vision is, no matter how it changes, you'll always be able to see clearly with those. And they've got an Unbreakable Charm on them—I daresay that'll come in handy."

Harry grinned. "I reckon it will at that." He took them off, looked at them again for a minute, then put them back on. "Thanks, Cho. I mean—wow."

"You're welcome, Harry." Cho stood up and walked over to him, hugging him briefly, then sat down beside him on the bed. "I'm surprised nobody ever gave you wizard glasses before, really."

"I didn't know wizards even had different glasses from Muggles," Harry admitted. He felt that his face would start to melt if it grew any redder. He looked at Cho, who was looking at him. Their eyes locked, and a long moment of wordless communication stretched between them. He unconsciously leaned forward a bit, noticing without really noticing that Cho was doing the same. A detached part of his mind noted wryly that in a few seconds, they'd bump into each other. Closer still, and...

"Good day, Harry Potter! Dobby is bringing—oh, hello! Dobby is very sorry, sir! Dobby is not knowing you is having company, Harry Potter sir!"

The two teens jumped, startled, and moved apart from each other very quickly. Cho stared at the new arrival, eyes wide. Harry didn't know whether to feel relieved, or to strangle the house-elf.

Dobby looked first at Harry, then at Cho. "Is Dobby interrupting something, sir and miss? Dobby is very sorry..."

"It's okay, Dobby," Harry replied, trying to keep his heart from hammering in his chest. "What's up?"

"Professor Dumbledore is sending Dobby to bring Harry Potter to the Wheezys. Professor Dumbledore is apologising, but Professor Dumbledore can't come to pick up Harry Potter himself, sir. So he is sending Dobby to pick up Harry Potter, sir."

"You mean I'm going to the Burrow? Now?"

"As soon as Harry Potter is ready, sir. Dobby has brought a Portkey." He paused. "Dobby can bring Cho Chang to the Wheezys as well, miss. Does Cho Chang want to go with Harry Potter to the Wheezys?"

"Err..." Cho blinked.

"Well, if I'm going to the Burrow, there's no point in Cho hanging about here, right?" Harry asked, even as he began to pack his belongings into his trunk.

"Oh! Let me help you pack," Cho said.

A moment later, all of Harry's things were packed in his trunk, and he, Cho, and Dobby stood in a circle, with Cho holding onto Hedwig's cage. Dobby held up a golden spoon. "Here is the Portkey, sir and miss. Take hold of the Portkey, and we is off to the Wheezys."

With a sharp *crack*, the two teens, one house-elf, one caged owl, and trunk disappeared from Privet Drive.

Ten seconds later, the door flew open. "What's all the racket—" Aunt Petunia glanced around, eyes wide as she took in the empty room. A single piece of paper fluttered to the floor. She scowled as she picked it up.

Gone to the Weasleys' house for the rest of the summer.
Harry
PS: Cho went with me. She's a witch, by the way.

* * * * *

Upon arriving at the Burrow, Harry was greeted by a thunderous shout of "Happy Birthday!". He blinked as he steadied himself, and saw most of the Weasley clan gathered around—Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Ron, the twins Fred and George, and Bill, who had been spending quite a bit of time close to home since the Triwizard Tournament.

He grinned sheepishly. "Hi everyone."

The Weasleys noticed Cho a moment later. "Ah, you really did go to see him, then," Ron said with a grin.

Cho laughed. "You should've told me you were planning this."

The twins chuckled. "We didn't know we were planning it ourselves," Fred said. "Dobby just showed up and said he'd be bringing Harry today..."

"Dobby is putting Harry Potter's things upstairs for him, then Dobby is bringing Harry Potter his present!" The house-elf promptly vanished with Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage.

"Well, come on, sit down then," Mrs. Weasley gestured to the table in the center of the garden, already laden with presents and a large, delicious-looking cake. The Weasleys sat down, making sure to leave two seats next to one another open for their guests, and Harry and Cho joined them.

"Nice glasses, Harry," Ron commented. "About time you got a decent pair."

Harry smiled. "Thanks. Cho just gave them to me for my birthday." He blushed faintly.

A moment later, Dobby reappeared. "Here is Harry Potter's present, sir!" he squeaked, handing Harry a sparkly bag. Harry opened it and withdrew a shimmery scarlet jumper, coated with twinkling glitter. A tiny Golden Snitch sewn onto the breast fluttered, then darted around to the backside. "Made it myself, sir!" the elf smiled.

Harry chuckled. "Thanks, Dobby," he said. "I like it. I'll try it on in a bit."

Dobby smiled and bowed. "Dobby is glad Harry Potter likes his present! Dobby must go now...Dobby will see Harry Potter at Hogwarts!" With a *crack*, Dobby vanished.

"Well, it'll go great with the socks he gave you last Christmas," Ron observed.

Harry laughed, put the sweater back in its bag, and set it aside.

Mrs. Weasley pulled out her wand and lit the candles on the cake. "Alright then," she said after a rousing (if cacophonous) chorus of 'Happy Birthday To You'. "Give us a wish."

Harry smiled, closed his eyes, and blew out the candles. He glanced around the table, and as his eyes fell on Cho, he blushed. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he blushed more deeply.

"That'll have been some wish," George commented.

Once everyone had had their fill of cake, Harry opened the rest of his presents. Hermione had sent him a book on the magic of the Aborigines, with apologies for not being there for the party; Ron had given him a stack of Famous Wizard cards, while the twins had given him a parcel full of some of their latest inventions (Mrs. Weasley had frowned a bit at that, but didn't seem keen on making a fuss). Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gave him a very practical gift: a leather wand case, with a jar of Ollivander's wand polish and two cleaning cloths. Bill gave him an Egyptian amulet to detect seals, charms, and magical traps; Charlie had sent a card with pictures of a cluster of young Hungarian Horntails, the hatchlings Harry had last seen when they were still eggs in their mother's nest during the first Triwizard task. Percy had merely given him a polite, if somewhat stiff, card, and a package from Hagrid contained, to Harry's amazement, a set of beautiful, deep green leather gloves and boots.

"Wow...wonder where he got those?" Ron asked.

Harry read the note aloud:

Harry,
Hope you like these. They're basilisk skin—the very basilisk you killed in the Chamber of Secrets. Couldn't see wasting a great ruddy snakeskin like that, so I figured I'd have it made into something for you. Since you killed the thing and all. Sorry it took so long to make them, but I had the tanner put a lot of special enchantments on them, and it takes a while to enchant basilisk skin. For one, they'll stretch magically, so you won't outgrow them, and they're also resistant to just about any acid or potion you could spill on them. See you at Hogwarts. Have a happy one.
Hagrid

"Whoa," Ron said, gaping.

Harry grinned. "I'd wondered what they did with that thing. I figured they'd probably left it to rot..." He picked up the gloves and pulled them on. "Nice fit..." He frowned down at his feet. "I'd try the boots on, but with these horrible jeans..."

Mrs. Weasley pulled out her wand. "Oh, we can fix that, dear. Stand up, go on."

Harry stood, and Mrs. Weasley waved her wand at him. The baggy sweater and jeans he wore began to shrink, soon fitting him perfectly. He smiled at Mrs. Weasley, then bent down to remove his battered trainers. He slid his feet into the boots, and found that, as Hagrid had promised, they fit snugly, seeming to pinch ever so slightly before adjusting and becoming comfortable. "I could get used to these," he grinned.

"Just don't get any funny ideas about making a habit of killing dangerous monsters for their skins," Mrs. Weasley said. Everyone laughed.

Bill said, "I've got some less worn-out jeans and some leather trousers I've filled out a bit much for. I'll remember to send them to you for Christmas. They'll go well with those boots." Harry looked a bit flustered at the prospect of parading about in leather trousers, but thanked Bill all the same.

Ginny gave him her present last. It was a new quill with a gold nib, a beautiful scarlet plume, and a tiny pin tacked through the base of the feather monogrammed with his initials. He smiled at her. "Thanks Gin, it's lovely."

Ginny turned crimson, mumbled something, and fell silent. Harry frowned slightly; she'd been more quiet than usual since he arrived. He idly wondered if Cho's presence was upsetting her.

They all sat and chatted about various things for a while before Mrs. Weasley got up to start dinner. As she passed by Harry, she leaned close and whispered, "Sirius said to tell you he'll be by in a day or so to visit, and not to worry about him." She then bustled off, and Ron suggested they get up to a game of Quidditch.

Harry grinned. "Sounds good to me, it's been far too long since I had a practise. What d'you reckon, Cho?"

Cho smiled. "Mind waiting for me to go home, get my broom, and change? I don't fancy playing in this outfit."

"Oh, I dunno, Cho," Fred said loftily. "I reckon it'd be quite a sight, you up in the air in that skirt—"

Ginny rammed an elbow into his gut, even as George chuckled and Cho flushed crimson.

"You'll pay for that one," Cho said, sticking her tongue out and laughing as she got up to leave.

* * * * *

"Lucky dog," George grinned, ruffling Harry's hair.

"Geroff," Harry grumbled. He wondered if his face would ever be any colour other than red again.

"Not going to give us up to Ravenclaw on the pitch, now, are you?" Fred asked with a sly smile.

"Of course not!" Harry retorted.

"But blimey, Harry," Bill grinned, unable to resist having his say, "she's a real looker, that one. A girl like that doesn't come along every day."

"You can say that again," Harry said, a dreamy look crossing his face. As the Weasleys chuckled, he shook it off. "But...we're not...I mean..."

"Oh, come off it," Ron said, grinning. "It's obvious, isn't it?"

Harry endured a few more minutes of teasing, and was grateful when Cho returned. She'd changed into a blue strappy top, grey denim shorts, and flat black slip-on shoes. A sports bag was slung over her shoulder, and she had her Comet Two-Sixty in hand. "What's wrong, Harry?" she asked as she caught sight of his red face.

"Oh, nothing!" he replied, trying not to stare too hard at her, as her new top was rather low-cut.

She eyed him skeptically, then shrugged. "I brought my set of practise balls from home, if you lot don't mind. They're enchanted so they won't go too far from the box...less chance of the Muggles seeing them."

"Hey, great!" Fred called. "We usually just toss a few apples around."

Cho grinned, then reached into her bag, pulled out a box which she passed to Bill, then pulled a pair of fingerless black leather gloves out and tugged them on. "So, three on three?"

* * * * *

"It's disgusting!" Ginny complained as she bustled about the kitchen with her mother. "She's a witch, she should dress like a witch! Not like...like...!"

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "And you lot don't wear Muggle clothes during the summer at all, I suppose."

"Well...! But...she's...half-naked!" Ginny protested. "You saw how she was dressed! Don't you think it's a bit shameful?"

The plump, older woman raised an eyebrow. "Which part, the being half-naked, or the being half-naked in front of Harry?"

Ginny flinched and looked away.

"I thought you were over that, dear, honestly. Besides, she was willing to brave those horrible Muggles to see him on his birthday. If she didn't care for him, she wouldn't have gone to that sort of trouble."

"Well...I guess..." Ginny frowned. "But does she have to dress like that?"

Molly laughed, tousling her daughter's hair. "I reckon it's easier to play Quidditch in. Now, come along, we've got a lot of hungry mouths to feed..."

* * * * *

The remainder of the day had been quite high-spirited and fun, and easily the best birthday Harry had ever had. After the group grew tired of Quidditch for the day, they sat talking; Ron asked Harry and Cho a lot of questions about the Muggle ball, while the twins retreated upstairs to check on a few of their projects (loud bangs shook the Burrow for a solid hour), and Bill had Apparated back to Egypt when an owl arrived for him; he apologised for cutting short his visit, but some foolish Muggle thieves had apparently set off a particularly nasty curse, and turned loose some horrible undead thing; Egypt's magical government had asked Gringotts to take care of it. "Do be careful, dear," Mrs. Weasley had advised. "Egyptian mummies...nasty business, those."

Mr. Weasley and Percy had arrived home in time for dinner, and they all sat around talking about various things. Harry noticed that Ginny kept scowling at Cho; apparently, Cho noticed too, because she looked a bit disturbed by the negative attention.

After dinner, Harry had told the Weasleys he was going to stretch out in the garden and watch the sunset. Cho joined him, and he couldn't help but blush a bit as she lay beside him on the grass, stretching and cracking a loud yawn.

"Tired?" he asked.

Cho smiled. "A little." They lay in silence for a bit, listening to the frogs croak in the pond and the scuffling of tiny feet coming from the gnome-holes in the garden, watching as the sun dipped below the horizon.

After a while, Harry turned slightly and said, "Thanks, Cho."

She blinked, and smiled. "For the glasses? You already thanked me—"

"Not for that, for..." He blushed. "For being here today. It means a lot to me."

Cho smiled, cheeks pink. "I...I'm glad," she said.

The two of them fell silent for a bit. Much as earlier in the day, Harry felt himself leaning closer to Cho, as if to...

*...but that wouldn't be right, would it...?*

*...would she want me to?*

*...looks like she does...*

*...but...*

*...oh, just DO it already...*

And closer he was, now, and she was looking at him, and her eyes were half-closed, and she was moving closer too, and...

A loud bark echoed around the garden as an enormous black dog shot through the hedges on the edge of the garden, alarming several gnomes. Cho shot straight up, and Harry slowly rose to a sitting position, half embarrassed, half annoyed. Then he saw what had interrupted the moment (were we having a moment? he wondered), and grinned.

"Padfoot!" he shouted.

The dog barked happily and trotted over to him, licking his face. Then, he glanced at Cho, then back at Harry, and tilted his head inquisitively.

"This is Cho, Padfoot."

Cho laughed. "Hi, Padfoot." She then glanced at her watch. "Oh no! I need to get home, Harry, Mum's probably worried sick."

Harry felt disappointed, but he nodded. "Alright. I'll see you off. Come along, Padfoot."

Nobody was in sight as they walked into the kitchen. Cho smiled. "I'll see you later, okay? Now that you're here, I can visit any time..."

Harry smiled back at her. "I'd like that. I mean, if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind," Cho grinned. She leaned up, and as she had done after the ball, gave him a kiss on the cheek, then drew a plastic sandwich bag full of Floo powder out of her pocket, opened it, and tossed a bit of powder into the fire. "Chang house," she said as she stepped into the flames and vanished.

As soon as she was gone, a rather amused voice called from behind Harry, "New girlfriend?"

Harry blushed, and turned to face his godfather, Sirius Black.

* * * * *

Sirius was looking more fit than Harry had ever seen him; he'd finally gotten decent robes, deep indigo as opposed to the horrible tattered grey ones he'd worn since escaping Azkaban. He had a healthy colour about him, and had taken to caring properly for his hair. He hadn't shaved in a while, and had a scrubby, stubbly beard growing.

"All right, Harry?" Sirius asked.

"All right," Harry replied.

"Sorry I haven't been in contact much lately. Been a bit busy doing stuff for Dumbledore." The two of them left the kitchen for the living room and sank onto the comfortable sofa. Sirius reached into his pocket and withdrew a small, leather-bound book, which he handed to Harry. "Happy birthday," he said.

Harry opened the book and saw that it contained a number of photographs. Some, he'd already seen; photos of his parents' wedding, and later, with him as a baby. There were also pictures of his parents, as well as Sirius and Remus, as they had been in their Hogwarts days, surrounded by a number of people Harry didn't recognise. A few pictures showed his father, who looked exactly like him save for the eyes and scar, in Gryffindor Quidditch robes, riding a broom and passing the Quaffle back and forth with the other Chasers. Another picture of his mother, smiling impishly as she hugged the neck of a great stag. More photos of his parents and their friends in various places, magical and Muggle, all having a good time and enjoying life...

"You okay, Harry?" Sirius asked, and Harry realised with a start that he'd begun crying.

"I'm fine, Sirius," he said thickly. "I'm just—thank you. This means a lot to me."

Sirius smiled. "I knew you'd have some pictures of them already, but I thought you might like to have these too—some of the best times of our lives, those were." He raised an eyebrow at Harry. "I like the new glasses, by the way. Birthday present?"

Harry nodded. "From Cho."

Sirius grinned. "So, how long has this been going on?"

"Sirius!" Harry groaned. "We're not—I mean—"

Sirius chuckled. "James was good at getting the pretty ones too. Your mum, for instance."

"Well—that is, I'd like us to be...I don't know how she feels...for all I know, she just wants to be friends..."

"Really good friends, then, if that's the case," Sirius replied, waggling his eyebrows. "I saw you two nearly snogging out there. Sorry about breaking that up, by the way." The mischevious gleam in his eyes said he wasn't sorry at all, but Harry was too busy feeling embarrassed—and wondering if he'd really been about to snog Cho in the garden, and how she would have responded—to get upset about it.

"—just going to check on him, I'll be right up," they heard from the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley walked in, jumping a bit at the sight of Sirius in the living room.

"Hullo, Molly," Sirius said with a wave.

"Sirius," the plump woman replied a bit nervously. Although she'd been told the whole story about Sirius, and knew he was innocent of the crime he'd been imprisoned for, she was still a bit edgy around the escaped convict. Recovering, she glanced around. "Did your lady friend leave already, Harry dear?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said.

"Alright then. I'll leave you two to talk...will you be staying the night then, Sirius?" she asked.

"I reckon so, but don't worry about me. I'll sleep in the garden," Sirius replied with a grin. Harry laughed, and Mrs. Weasley clucked her tongue.

"Really," she said. "Oh well, maybe having a bloody great mutt laying about will scare off the gnomes." Yawning, she bid the two goodnight, and headed off to bed.

As she left, Sirius grumbled, "Mutt? Who's a mutt?"

"You are," Harry said with a grin.

"Oh, alright then," Sirius replied. The two spent a while catching up, and it was past midnight before they finally turned in.

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