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Albus had come in late. A mere few minutes before his father had. He was still by the front of the pub when the rounds of 'Happy Birthday, Harry' was shouted out. Which meant that he was close enough to get right by his father, and his mother who he wasn't really sure he wanted to see as he didn't want to make this a bad night for his dad. But that was neither here nor there until one of them started talking and said something the other didn't like.
Right up to his dad, Albus gave him a little hug. "Happy Birthday, dad. You get my card?" He hadn't got Harry chocolates or candy, he knew, even years into the future, that his father was trying to cut back. And he knew that almost everyone still got him sweets for his birthday then. On an island where not everyone knew how old or what each person had or didn't have, sweets was the most obvious answer. Which was why he had gone for the crappily made homemade card, drawn in pencil and made colorful with crayons from the store. This Harry was used to having young children, Albus could understand that to a certain degree, and had done what he could to make the card look like it was from the small son he had left behind, not to the adult who was standing before him now.