"Eleven fifty-nine," said Harry, almost holding his breath.
"Well, I'm for bed now--"
Harry punched his brother in the shoulder to stop him from joking about.
"Ow, that smarts! No presents for you, not after that."
"You wouldn't say that if you knew how many times I had birthdays with no presents," chided Harry. For once, though, it didn't hurt to think on such memories. Those days seemed so distant, now. Like they didn't matter, any longer.
Or not as much, anyway.
Harry returned his attention to the clock, almost holding his breath. And then, finally, the minute hand moved once more, shifting over to rest beneath the hour hand as the clock read precisely twelve.
At that same instant, a low noise, rather like a gong, began to echo in the room. One . . . two . . . three . . . Grinning, Harry counted the sounds until the gong had rung twelve times, all the while watching his father carefully, looking for any sign of a burden lifting.
Snape just stared back, impassive, though humour was lurking somewhere in his dark eyes.
Finally, the gong stopped, so Harry asked. "Did you feel it?"
"Yes, some two days past."
Harry gaped. "What?" Then, he thought he understood. "Draco, did you slip some of your special shampoo into the one I usually use?"
"Yes, and I also hexed your Firebolt to throw you, and I hid your all your socks inside a garden gnome!" Draco crossed his arms and glared.
"Draco's aging potion doesn't act topically, Harry. You would have to drink it for it to have any effect."
"Harry, have you been drinking my shampoo again?" asked Draco in a syrupy voice.
"Well, what was I to think?" Harry rounded on his father. "Are you serious? You felt your burden lift a couple of days ago? I was seventeen already, and didn't know it?"
"Apparently." Snape shrugged. "All I can say for certain is that I did feel the burden lift."
"And you didn't tell me?"
Another shrug, but that one wasn't careless. Somehow, it looked . . . fatherly. "Perhaps I wanted you to enjoy every last moment of your childhood, such as it ever was."
"Thanks," said Harry softly. "But how . . . why?"
"You accelerated personal time in order to break out of that Petrificus, several months ago. I told you at the time that you'd likely made yourself a couple of days older."
"Oh, yeah . . ." Harry's brow furrowed. "Oh, no. The prophecy . . . Er, do you suppose my birthday's actually changed? What if I'm not the one who was born as the seventh month died, any longer?"
For a moment, it was like the whole world seemed to open up before him. What if it was true? What if he'd somehow been set free--
What if there was nobody left who could stop Voldemort at all?
"I consulted your adoption certificate when I felt the burden lift," said Snape, shaking his head. "Your birth date hasn't changed, likely because what you did to age yourself was born of instinct, rather than intent."
"Not formalised magic," added Draco.
"Oh." Harry sat down, frowning, not sure whether to be upset or relieved. "For a second I thought . . . well, you know. I'd kind of rather there wasn't a prophecy about me."
"The Dark Lord isn't going to leave you alone, though," said Draco. "You'd still have to fight him, Harry. He'd come after you even if your birthday had changed."
"Yeah." Harry cleared his throat. "I guess I meant, I'd rather there not be a Voldemort at all."
"You aren't thinking of . . . er . . . sticking yourself, are you?"
"No," said Harry, though on some level it wasn't true. He had been feeling like scratching, at least. Trust Draco to wonder over it. His brother didn't bring it up constantly, like he used to, but Harry could do without him mentioning it at all. No point in fighting about it, though, and ruining his birthday, so Harry tried his best to think of something else. "So, that's it, then. Seventeen, finally. I thought I'd feel . . . I don't know. Different, somehow."
"I expected that, too," said Draco. "But, no."
"Wait until you have a son who comes of age," said Snape wryly. "Or two, in quick succession. You'll feel all you could wish, I wager."
Harry quickly glanced up. "What was it like? The burden lifting?"
Snape tilted his head to one side as he considered that. "Odd sensation. A cessation of formal responsibility for you. Legal responsibility. But no less of a bond, if that's what concerns you."
Harry shook his head. "No, that's all settled. It wasn't magic that made you my father, after all. I understand."
"No, it wasn't." Snape's eyes took on a softer look than usual, for just a moment. That one moment was enough, though. "Though I still maintain that you'll understand still more when you yourself become a father."
"Can't really imagine that," said Harry slowly.
"No-one your age should be able to imagine it."
Maybe so, but Harry had meant something different. Sometimes it seemed to him like his future was so tied into that awful prophecy, that he had no other future. Plus, of course, there was his constant awareness that dark powers or no, he was no match for Voldemort. How could he hope to be the one who survived?
"So, who's for cake and presents?" asked Draco brightly, just as if he knew Harry was getting mired in dark thoughts. "I owled-ordered you a really nice one."
"Present?"
"Cake, from the most renowned pastry chef on the Continent."
Harry frowned. "You made an owl fly all the way from France?"
"Vienna, actually." Draco shrugged. "That's in Austria."
"I know it's in Austria! Awful long way for an owl . . ."
Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even sense Snape leaning towards him, not until a hand settled onto his shoulder. "You're missing Hedwig, I suspect."
"Yeah, she'd love it here. All these open fields, probably running wild with mice and such."
"But you understand why she's best left in Scotland?"
Harry gave his father a weak smile. "Yeah, of course. Can't have her flying around here, attracting attention, especially since your concealment spells mean that people walking alongside your property might see her vanishing and reappearing every time she crosses the wards."
"A pity she can't be relied on to stay in bounds, the way you and Draco do when out flying."
"It's all right." said Harry, sighing a little. "I've got Sals . . . but you're right. I do miss her. Even if it got really old hearing Sals complain about her."
Harry hadn't noticed, but Draco had been busy while he and Snape had been talking. "Voil‡," said the other the boy, making an elegant gesture toward the living room.
Harry's eyes went wide when he looked. Three squarish boxes wrapped in brilliant silver paper surrounded the fanciest cake he'd ever seen. The sides were iced in gold, and a replica of Hogwarts occupied about half the top surface. The castle was executed in painstaking detail, its tallest spires standing perhaps ten full inches above the lake that occupied the rest of the cake top.
"Brilliant," murmured Harry, grinning.
"Look closer," said Draco.
Harry bent over the cake, and that was when he saw it. There was a tiny figure swimming in the lake. Ripples fanned out from the swimmer as it made its way across the blue icing. Peering even more closely, Harry noticed that the swimmer was doing the Australian crawl. As he watched, though, it flipped over and began executing a perfect backstroke, instead.
The swimmer was wearing maroon-and-gold trunks, he noticed with delight.
"Bloody brilliant," Harry finally said, pulling back a little. "Shame to eat it, really."
"The castle's liquorice-flavoured," said Draco. "I have to see Severus' face when he tastes it."
Harry thought that liquorice icing sounded hideous, but he did want to see what their father thought of it. "I'll just go get a knife, then--"