Work Text:
Harry pushed his hair down, anxious to cover his scar.
He scowled at the mirror. It chided him: "A smile, young man!"
"I'm telling Sirius I want to get rid of you if you don't stop," he scolded it.
It didn't heed his words, naturally.
"A handsome young face like yours should be smiling, especially on your birthday," it continued.
"I'd be handsome if it wasn't for this stupid thing," he muttered, tracing the line of his scar.
He knew, of course, what it symbolized. Hope, victory over darkness.
But Sirius had always told him he didn't have to do anything because of his celebrity, and he wasn't about to start with liking this stupid scar.
It only reminded him of his parents' sacrifices.
Of the incident that had left him an orphan, the 'Boy-Who-Lived'.
He considered that a very stupid name. All other one-year-olds had lived just fine too.
Sirius knocked on his door. He looked up, smiling now. And that had been a surprise, too, after the Dursleys - that Sirius listened to what he had to say, gave him his privacy.
"Come in!" He called.
"Your guests will be arriving any minute now, kiddo," Sirius said softly. "You ready?"
He swallowed nervously. He'd seen Dudley have many parties, but he'd never had one himself.
But Sirius would be there. And he liked everyone who was coming.
"Ready."
Harry was grinning later, with no idea why he'd been so anxious about all this.
His muggle friends from school hadn't needed to be Obliviated, for one. Even Hermione, who was curious and noticed everything.
Neville and Ron seemed a little confused about the muggle games - Ron had questioned pin the tail on the donkey instead of the dragon - but the others had taken it just fine.
Until Marianne grinned at him and proclaimed his dad was the coolest.
Harry's mood soured instantly.
He loved Sirius, but he wasn't his dad. His dad was dead.
He escaped to the kitchen, blinking angry tears out of his eyes.
Someone grabbed his hand - had followed him. He turned to yell at them to go away when he blinked in surprise.
It was little Ginny. He didn't know Ron's younger sister very well - Ron constantly complained about her, but was very fond and protective of her as well.
He supposed it was a sibling thing.
"Are you okay?" She questioned, a divot between her brows.
He rubbed at his scar - the only thing, other than the eyes, that differentiated his face from his father's. According to the photos and Sirius and Remus, at least. And it was ugly and large and ruined his face and stupid.
"Sirius isn't my dad," he said mutinously. "He's like my dad - but, but he's not."
"So just tell Marianne that, I'm sure she'll understand," Ginny reasoned.
"No, she won't," he scowled. "She loves my scar too - constantly awed about how it looks like lightning."
Next hair cut, he was getting Sirius to ask the hairdresser to get him a bigger fringe so it could fully cover his scar.
At least among muggles, he wanted peace about it.
"I have a scar too," she said proudly, rolling up her sleeve. "It looks like a heart."
Harry was instantly charmed by this segue. No one had ever compared their scar to his legendary one.
He peered at it curiously. "How did you get it?"
She grinned mischievously. "I take my brothers' brooms out sometimes. I fell once."
"Cool," he said enviously. "Sirius doesn't allow me to fly without supervision."
She made a face. "My parents don't allow me to fly at all. That's why I have to go this far."
"Maybe you shouldn't," he suggested. "It's dangerous."
"But I love flying!"
"You can come over here and fly with me," he decided. "I bet Sirius won't mind."
Ginny brightened. "Really?"
"Really."
She flung her arms around him. He hugged her back awkwardly. He hadn't been hugged often - just by Hermione and Mrs. Weasley. Even Sirius gave him only shoulder squeezes and side hugs.
"Your scar is sort of cool," she said as they separated. "Better than mine, anyway."
"Why, because it's famous?" He asked, scowling.
"No, because it makes you you. I bet no one else has a scar like this. It's unique, just like you!" She said brightly.
Harry had never thought about it that way. Uniqueness to him was a bad thing, not a good one. He had to fit in. He told Ginny that.
She swore impressively - clearly something she'd learned from the twins. "That's stupid," she frowned. "You're unique. And nice. I don't know why you're friends with Ron."
"Ron's nice too," he said loyally.
"Not to me," she pointed out. "But I like that you're unique. And your scar."
Harry felt a strange heat creep up his cheeks. "Really?"
"Really."
She stood on tip-toes and pressed a clumsy kiss to his forehead, across which his scar spread, down to his eyebrow. "There. Now you believe me?"
Harry, for once, was speechless. He stared at Ginny, who looked back at him with a blazing gaze.
He heard a chuckle and looked up to see his godfather, smiling and looking between them like he knew something they didn't. "Harry, the others are looking for you. And you, Miss Weasley, your parents will kill me if you get lost here."
Ginny crossed her arms. "I'm Ginny."
"Okay, Ginny." Sirius grinned, coming ahead and putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Why don't you go to your brothers?"
"She said she likes my scar," Harry told his guardian dreamily.
Sirius ruffled his hair. "I bet she does. A whole lot more than that, too, I think."