Word Count: 260 words... (tiny, tiny)
Fandom: Harry Potter
Notes: hermioneluna told me the other day that I should write more Harry Potter fanfic. This came to mind. The title comes from a song by Jens Lekman, which contains the memorable question "Are birthdays happy, or are they just a countdown to death?" This reminds me of something I read by piapiapiano. I hope it's not a complete rip-off.
When Harry was turning four he’d wanted a robot. Robots were great. They were big and shiny and they had special powers. Harry wanted a robot that could get smaller or larger whenever he wished and always wanted to play with him.
When Harry was turning five he’d wanted a bicycle, like the one Dudley’d got only smaller and a different colour. It didn't need to have many gears. Dudley’s looked fit for a nine year old, and it was bright silver. Harry wanted red.
When Harry was turning six he’d given up on wanting a robot or a bicycle and decided he’d go for something simpler. He wanted a toy truck. He’d seen one in a shop window. It was this brilliant yellow and it looked like it could be handy for when he played in the garden with the mud. He rarely did go in the garden to play in the mud, but if he ever got the opportunity he’d have a toy truck just ready for him.
When Harry was turning seven he'd wanted a block of chocolate. Just one block – the kind that Dudley was given every weekend for being such a Good Boy. He wanted a block of chocolate that was smooth and sweet and would last him for a month.
When Harry was turning eight he'd wanted a hug. Not from Aunt Petunia, not from Uncle Vernon, certainly not from Dudley who was twice his size. The hug he wanted was impossible to attain.
But then, so was every other gift Harry had wanted.