A/N: You know me, I don't plan this stuff. I woke up and remembered it was Harry Potter's 38th birthday, today. And J.K. Rowling's, as well! So, I had to write a birthday shot and this is what happened.

There is no plot. It is here in WWW because I didn't have another home for it. And now, back to the actual Epilogue—the story, that is—that I hope to post on Friday.

Does He Get a Happy Ending?

Pairing: Well, if you read 'til the end... Shhh!

Rating: T for Ron's Participle

Setting: Someplace in Wizarding Britain

. . . .

"So this is my happily ever after?" Harry inquired, wincing under the hands on his bare back. "They do not put this in the story books. And I swear by Merlin's beard it wasn't in the latest version of Blood Wars, either." He made a graveled, grunting sort of sound as the hands started a medium-to-heavy tattoo up and down either side of his spine. Not a cool ink tattoo, no. That would have been too sweet. No, the tattoo was the kind the old books talked about. More like Harry Potter was a percussion instrument. The Man Who Got Manhandled.

"Shut yer gob," Ron Weasley said in between groans of undoubted pleasure. "This is the best thing that's happened since the twins were born."

"Which set?" Harry muttered, wincing when the masseuse dug her fingers into a muscle. "Yours or mine?"

"Oh, yours, of course. After all, this is your happy ending, yeah?" With a sigh, Ron grinned up at the woman working on him. "You know who we are, eh?"

"Yes, Mister Weasley. Two thirds of the Golden Trio," the woman said with a tolerant smile. "Here to experience, your missing partner said when she made the reservation, a proper happy ending."

Thought a happy ending like that meant sex, Harry thought, but he wouldn't say that out loud. Not to a stranger. And the woman turning his back into porridge was definitely not a friend. Nor would she ever be. "Don't suppose she booked a session for herself?"

"Miss Granger? No. She said, when she spoke to me, that she was not in need of a massage. She would rather go on holiday to a private island."

"Yeah?" Ron asked, turning over whilst keeping a modesty towel over his bits. "Did she say who she wanted to go with?"

The masseuse hemmed and hawed a bit, but Harry was just glad she had quit pounding on him. "I think she said something about shaking a spear? Bill Something?"

"Bill?" Ron said, gasping in shock. "Harry! Did you hear? What the bloody hell! What about Fleur? Breaking up a marriage, an island is where she wants to go?" The irate man rolled off the table, uncaring for the nonce about his dangling participle.

Harry, who would't have recognized an actual participle if it stared him in the face rather like Ron's freckled arse was doing, held up a hand. "Wait, Ron, wait. First, mate, calm down." He resisted the urge to laugh; Ron was only thinking of the moral and marital sanctity of his eldest brother and Harry was sure he didn't really mean to imply that Bill and Hermione were having an affair behind everyone's backs. "I'm pretty sure that Hermione is not carrying on with Bill. Or anyone else, either. She mentioned years ago that she wasn't going to get seriously involved with anyone else ever again."

"But Bill?"

Harry motioned to the masseuse that he was done—hell, he was overdone—before carefully sitting upright. The other masseuse tossed him Ron's forgotten towel and the women murmured something about leaving the men alone to get dressed.

"Hermione was referring to William Shakespeare, Ron. A Muggle playwright. Author," he added when Ron dragged one hand through his hair in visible confusion.

"So she's having an affair with a Muggle?"

"No, she likely just meant she'd like to escape to Black Island, which Sirius left me, and get away for a week on her own to read. Or maybe swim."

"She's on her own. No twins!" Ron laughed and turned about to find his robes so he could leave the room. "Lives alone, too. Why go off to Black Island?"

Harry shook his head. "Because it's a nice getaway and no one can get there unless I or my heirs make a Portkey for it?"

Ron grinned. "Fair point." He stretched and pulled out his wand to Summon his boots. "All right then, mate. What's next on your birthday? Do you get a real happy ending?"

Harry smiled and rolled his shoulders, surprised and gratified to find that they were relaxed. "Well, I feel pretty good right now, actually."

"I happen to know," Ron said with admirable slyness, "that there's at least one woman out there who is wanting you to have a real happy ending." He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I know you deserve one. No one more."

The men paused, giving honor to the dead. Ginny had been gone for fifteen years after a fall from a broom and her memory was warm but not as painful as it had been, and all the Weasley family made sure that the twins—Sirius and Remus—heard about the love their mother and father had shared. Harry had a pensieve the twins accessed regularly, even.

Ron, also the father of twins—girls, which was the cause for no end of amusement for the family—had a wife to get back to that day before the Big Birthday Party that Hermione never failed to throw for her best friend. Ron blew out a breath and took in another one before smiling once more. "So, yeah. Come on. She's waiting."

"Who's waiting?"

"The girl!"

"No, you are not setting me up again, Ronald."

Laughing, Ron chivvied him out of the Matilda's Magical Massage. "It's not a new bird who's dying to ride your broom, mate. It's an old friend. She just said it was time for tea."

"Time for tea indeed. I'll hex you until next year. And your daughters. Lavender will thank me."

"We're meeting up at Fortescue's old place."

"What? But what about the boys? Did Hermione try to plan another surprise? Not after that one five years ago."

"The boys are nearly adult wizards, Harry. And Hermione made me promise not to tell you what she's up to," Ron said, leading Harry to the Apparition Point. "The Minister of Magic has one or two things to do today and your sons are helping her, which is why your party isn't until tonight. She approves of tea, though."

Just then, Hermione's Patronus, the shiny silver otter, emerged in the air before them. "Harry! You will go to tea or I'll know the reason why!"

"Scary, she is," Ron murmured.

"Don't we know it. Fine. I'll go. Tea."

Ron took control of the Side-Along Apparition maneuver and the next thing Harry knew, he was catching his breath and staring into a pair of pale blue eyes. Familiar eyes.

"Hullo, Harry! Happy birthday! So glad you came for tea. I've been waiting."

For some reason, the curl to the woman's voice made Harry blush just a little. "Luna, hello. Thank you for inviting me. It's rather a surprise."

She smiled in her old way, in the way she had before the war. In the way she had when they'd visited with the thestrals, long years ago. "Well, it's time to start your epilogue, you know. Your happily ever after." Solemn, then, she took one of his hands in one of hers. "You're fortunate, after all. You get two."

Harry barely noticed Ron take his leave with a wink and a smile, so occupied was he in following Luna to the only table in the ice cream shop. "Party for two?" he asked with half a laugh.

"Today, yes. Tomorrow, maybe four. How's your back?" she asked seemingly out of nowhere before moving to stand behind him and rub her hands along his shoulders with shocking familiarity. "Hmm, a little tense, there, Harry. Want some help?" She slid around to stand in front of him, her smile shadowed but sincere. "I promise you a happy ending."

And, for the first time in a long time, Harry thought he might just believe in the old stories.