Author: Girl Who Writes
Feedback: If you
feel moved, it would be lovely.
Word Count: 239
"Dost thou think because thou art virtuous that there shall
be no more cakes and ale?"
Summary: He had been
looking forward to a bath and a night's sleep in a proper bed as
his thirty-sixth birthday celebration
Notes: Written for the April RT Ficathon. I wasn't going to write anything this month, but daylight savings screwed over my other deadlines and, well, there was cake mentioned.
Special Thanks: To my own inability to tell time
Up to and including HBP
Warnings: Nothing. Very tame.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all related characters. I just borrow them to play with.
Remus wasn't sure how Nymphadora found out. He certainly hadn't told her, but he suspected she must have taken note the previous year, when his thirty fifth birthday was seen in with Sirius, fire whiskey and most of the leftovers in the ice box.
It had been a very subtle affair, alcohol soaked and full of nostalgia. Nymphadora had happened to turn up sometime in the night and dug into the leftover stew and fire whiskey like any self respecting Marauder; and he'd been grateful at the time that she hadn't seemed to know that it was any special occasion.
How wrong he'd been.
Dumbledore had arranged for a room in the Hog's Head anytime he needed it; Remus could only slip away for a day every so often, and he had been looking forward to a bath and a night's sleep in a proper bed as his thirty-sixth birthday celebration. A hot meal, a good book and as much sleep as he could get.
When he arrived in the dingy little room, he focused on it immediately. A bottle of fire whiskey adorned with a large bright pink bow and a pink iced cupcake with a flickering candle. And, written in pink ink, a note.
Happy Birthday, Remus.
Remus sat down on the old bed, in the dark, with the fire whiskey in one hand, watching the candle burn itself out.
And then he went back to the werewolves.