"No. I haven't. I'm the worst best friend ever," Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands temporarily. He hadn't precisely forgotten Hermione's birthday. That is, it had lurked in the back of his mind, but with everything else it had been shoved far down his list of things to worry about, so much so that on the actual day he probably hadn't actually been aware that it was September 19.
And he'd apparently slept through her dinner, too.
"I guess I ought to get her something soon. She's not angry, is she?" Hermione had never made a fuss over her birthday, but sometimes she could be unpredictable.