Roman Holiday
No birthday has ever made Harry as happy as today, not even the day Hagrid came to take him into the wizarding world in the rain when he was eleven—even though that wasn't his actual birthday.
But he was truly loved and surrounded by immense happiness, from his friends, his godfather, Mrs. Weasley and others, and Queenie.
Oh Queenie, she's leading him to the living room.
Queenie's house had changed. The shoes, clothes, and snacks that had been scattered everywhere when he visited before were gone, and all the decorations were neatly arranged. There were also many newly purchased trinkets, such as sailboat models, starfish pillows, and mermaid ceramic dolls. The ceiling was enchanted, but Harry could tell at a glance that it was the work of a projector. The water-ripple light made Queenie's living room look like a dreamy underwater scene from a fairy tale.
Harry thought confidently and sweetly that it was all because of him.
He piled his things on the side of the coffee table, his gaze following Queenie as she brought out a small birthday cake from the kitchen. The cute little thing had a tiny doll and a candle on it, and Harry felt that the doll looked somewhat familiar.
“I had it custom-made, and it looks just like you, doesn’t it?” Queenie said proudly.
Black hair, green eyes, glasses, and even a lightning bolt-shaped scar peeking out from under his bangs.
Queenie couldn't help but tap the little figure's head. "So cute, I'm going to put it on my bedside table." She had originally planned to make a ship-shaped cake, but in the end decided to make a Harry Potter-shaped one—she preferred that one.
ah?
Harry blushed.
Queenie brought the cake to him. "Alright, Harry, make a wish before I finish singing the birthday song." She didn't give him much time to react; she started singing as soon as she finished speaking.
Harry immediately closed his eyes nervously, his mind racing with all sorts of wishes.
"Happy birthday to you..."
What kind of wish should I make? Defeat Voldemort? The Order of the Phoenix will prevail? Never again should anyone die like Cedric?
"Happy birthday to you..."
Before he turned eleven, his annual wish was to have someone celebrate his birthday with him. After he turned eleven, his wishes changed. They were either to avoid being targeted by Snape the following year or for Gryffindor to win the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup. They were ordinary and childish.
"Happy birthday dear Harry..."
But this time, he thought he shouldn't waste his wish attempts on wishes that could be fulfilled through hard work.
"Happy birthday to you..."
"I want to stay with Queenie forever, even after she finds out the truth." As the song faded, Harry added silently to himself, "As friends too."
The birthday song was far too short. Harry made a wish, opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and blew out the candles.
"alright?"
"Um."
“If it concerns me—” Queenie tilted her head, “just tell me, and I’ll naturally help you fulfill it. There’s no need to take up a precious spot on your birthday wish list.”
That's not necessarily true.
He gazed at Queenie through the little doll, the room bathed in an ambiguous glow, as if the light itself were flowing like ripples on water. A bittersweet feeling washed over Harry as he recalled Aunt Petunia's favorite film, *Roman Holiday*. A princess of vastly different social standing and a reporter meet by chance, fall in love, and are ultimately forced to part.
Isn't he in a similar situation to Queenie? The wizarding world is destined to face the savior of the Dark Lord and an ordinary, beautiful high school student from the Muggle world. He doesn't even know what strengths he has that would make him worthy of the title of savior. He is young and reckless, his grades are average, he is far inferior to Cedric. He may die in the fight against Voldemort, or he may have a one in ten thousand chance of miraculously surviving again.
Harry didn't have time to think too much before Queenie shoved the cake into his hands. He hurriedly took it, afraid of dropping it if he didn't hold it properly.
Queenie, barefoot—she hadn't worn shoes since leaving the ball—ran to the tape recorder, turned on the music, then ran back, took the cake, and placed it on the coffee table, where Harry noticed a bouquet of beautiful roses.
Harry took a breath. "Queenie?" She pulled his right hand up and placed it behind her waist, as if to dance again.
Queenie clung to his shoulders. "I'm so tired, Harry. Can you jump with me? I want to take a break."
"certainly."
Queenie stepped onto his leather shoes, and the change in posture caused her center of gravity to shift. Harry, ignoring the strange feeling caused by the sudden weight, quickly reached out his left hand to help her steady herself.
"Queenie—you'll fall like this..." Harry's face was burning with embarrassment. He hadn't expected Queenie to suddenly cling to him like this, the distance between them closer than ever before. He felt how soft and cuddly Queenie was...
“But I’m tired, and you just agreed,” Queenie said matter-of-factly, resting her head against his neck. “Jump! The music has been going on for a while now.”
Quiquiquini's lips touched his neck!
Harry wanted to move away, but he was afraid she would fall, so he could only try his best to control his body and sway gently with Queenie to the music. Harry looked at the two inseparable figures reflected on the wall, and those sad and pessimistic thoughts suddenly became very distant. All that remained in his heart was shyness and joy.
So far, Queenie's plan for today has been progressing smoothly. In fact, it's not really a plan; it's just three steps: go to the ball with Harry, celebrate Harry's belated birthday, and finally, win Harry over.
The last step was the most important, but she was confident that Harry liked her too. And now, nestled tightly against Harry, her confidence practically overflowing. Listen to Harry's unusually rapid heartbeat and quick breathing—it would be a miracle if he didn't like her!
Queenie snuggled close to Harry, without even having to exert any effort, because Harry's forearm was positioned behind her waist, protecting her perfectly.
Her eyes were right up to Harry's Adam's apple. She moved her head and gently blew a breath, causing her Adam's apple to bob up and down. Harry didn't think much of it, assuming it was Queenie's breathing.
What gift did you bring me?
"Hmm, candy, novels, and hair clips."
"It's a very common gift. Mr. Potter seems to lack a talent for preparing gifts," Queenie commented as usual.
"It's a bit ordinary compared to the gift you gave me. I'll give you something better next time..." Compared to everything Queenie had done for him, what he had prepared was simply insignificant.
"My gift? I haven't given it to him yet."
Harry was stunned. No gifts? A birthday song, cake, and a dance…aren't those gifts?
He asked, dumbfounded, "What is that?"
Queenie then changed the subject, "However, whether this gift can be successfully delivered depends on whether you agree."
"Why shouldn't I agree?" Harry asked curiously.
Queenie was still nestled in Harry's neck, her arm that was hanging on his shoulder wrapped around his neck to twirl the ends of his hair, affectionate and tender.
"Want to come with me?"
Harry's steps gradually came to a stop.
"Want to be with me?"
Contrary to the footsteps, there was a sudden surge of heartbeat and breathing.
"Would you like me to be your girlfriend, Mr. Potter?"
They remained quietly pressed together in their embrace, their hearts pounding. Harry felt as if Queenie's house had become a giant fish tank, the ripples of the lights amplifying the immersive experience. He was like a fish submerged in water, speechless, and when he finally opened his mouth, he could only foolishly exhale colorful bubbles.
He didn't need much time to think; he couldn't even recall those parts about danger, lies, and truth that he had once pondered over and over in a pretentious manner.
"Yes..." His voice was indeed muffled, as if covered by a layer of bubbles.
Queenie seemed not to have heard clearly, "What?"
I said, "Yes."
He held Queenie even tighter, completely enveloping her, and the two inseparable figures on the wall seemed to merge into one.
"This is the best gift I've ever received."
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