Till Forever Falls Apart

News, Newcomings, and Nuisances

*I know it has been a hot minute since a new chapter has been uploaded, but I made it! I'm here and I haven't given up just yet!

Finals were my mind's main focus, but now with them out of the way I am all yours for the end of the holiday season. Enjoy this beginning to Harry and Val's third year!

Warnings:  minimal suggestive language

July 31, 1993

Harry Potter was officially thirteen.

James barged into the boy's room. He had somehow acquired a blow horn in a short amount of time, startling the boy from his sleep with a jolt.

"What time is it?" Harry put the blanket back over his head. "Seven?"

"Time for you to get ready!" James kissed his hair. "Happy Birthday! My boy's thirteen!"

His father never seemed to run out of morning energy. "Alright, alright. I'm getting up."

"That's the spirit, son!" James ruffled his already messy bed hair. "Get to the kitchen! Your mum made you pancakes!"

Chocolate and blueberries, Harry licked his lips, already feeling the hunger in his stomach. He took the stairs two at a time, bursting into the cooking space as Lily opened her arms.

"Happy Birthday, love." She kissed the top of his head, flipping another pancake as she did. "They'll be ready shortly. I made three different kinds, though I don't know what you are craving. There's blueberry, chocolate, and a batch of both. The syrup is right over there, and-James! It's hot! And there are eggs if you'd like some. Is everything ready?"

"Indeed it is," James took a plate from the cupboard. "I've got the decorations, and everyone wrote me back. I mean everyone."

"It's only us this year, right?" Harry stopped before he could put a fork full of buttered breakfast in his mouth. "The people I wrote on the list?"

"And Mad-Eye, Kingsley," James put his fingers out to count, catching his son's concerned look. "Don't worry! They are only one or two people we know. Nothing like last year."

Harry could do with just the minimal amount. He was as old as all of his friends now, and was looking forward to what Fred and George were going to do prank-wise when they arrived.

Excited to set up his home for the party later that evening, Harry darted from his seat, clearing away his dishes as he sorted through the decorations with his dad. Everything was just as he had asked for: gold streamers and red tablecloths, eyeing two canisters of bronze and white confetti in the corner of the sack filled with the rest of the party supplies.

"You sit and tell me where you want everything," James pointed to the cushion of their couch. "It's your day-you shouldn't have to lift a finger."

Harry obliged, sitting comfortably on the couch as his father turned on the radio, tuning it to a channel of his liking, and began decorating the house to an extreme. There was not a wall or door frame that wasn't covered in colored paper or had balloons taped upright as the music filled the halls of the Potter home, swinging from rock to swelling, humble guitar tunes. Harry was found in his original spot in their sitting room two hours later playing with his Game Boy after James had sped around the home several times making sure each inch of space was perfect and complete.

"I think things are set," James glanced at his watch, puffing a series of tired breaths after he had continually raced up and down the stairs, forgetting the spellotape more times than he would like to admit.