Memory.

It was early in the evening, and it was getting a bit chilly at the beach, despite it being mid-summer. A soft ocean breeze was lightly wafting across the sand with every swell of the ocean. Everyone was gathered around a huge pit of fire, talking and laughing, and generally enjoying themselves.

Harry sat off to the side, apart from the group. He felt like he needed to be alone, even if it was at the cost of his comfort. (And true, it was, he sat obviously shivering, despite his sweater, courtesy of Molly Weasley.) He felt guilty for being alone, as all these festivities were in honour of him, or rather, his birthday, but he couldn't bring himself to return to the group. So he sat off alone, by himself, unable to restrain himself from staring. He couldn't help it. Once or twice she'd looked up and seen him, and his eyes had quickly shifted to something else: Fred and George making their usual scene and turning Ron into a canary, via one of their infamous Canary Creams.

Harry's absence was eventually noticed by none other than the twittering bird himself. Ron came over and sat down next to Harry, still brushing yellow feathers out of his hair. His eyes followed Harry's gaze, straight to his little sister.

"You should talk to her," Ron prodded him, "she isn't angry anymore, you know. She'd listen at least, and who knows, maybe she would give you another chance."

"I don't think so," Harry sighed, "It isn't a matter of her being angry, and it never was. It's about her being hurt, Ron. I hurt her, and I don't expect her to ever forgive me for that. I don't think even I can forgive myself for that."

"You made a mistake, Harry. Everyone makes mistakes. Plus...I've read her diary." Ron said, winking at him. "So will you please spare us all the melodramatic 'I deserve to sit here all alone and mentally kick my own arse' shtick, and go talk to her?"

"Will it make get you off my back?" Harry questioned, looking his friend in the eyes.

"Yes. And I guarantee it will put an end to your pouting," he said, winking at him again.

Harry stood up slowly, "You're going to feel awfully guilty when I get slapped."

"No I won't. Being slapped builds character," Ron grinned.

Harry gave him a half-hearted smile, and slowly rejoined the group. Taking his time reaching Ginny, he stopped to talk to as many people as he could, and then paused in front of the fire to warm himself. He stood there, letting the heat wash over him, thinking about what he was going to say to her, when suddenly he felt a light tap on his back. He turned slowly; knowing who it was before he even saw her face, peering up at him.

"Ginny," he spoke so softly that she almost didn't hear him.

"Harry...ehrm," she looked at him nervously, "can I talk to you?"

"Oh, uh, sure Gin," he said, surprised. After all, he was barely going to be able to summon up the courage to ask her to talk to him, and here she was, doing it for him.

"Why don't we go for a walk, then?" she asked, and without waiting for an answer, took off down the beach.

"Sure," Harry answered, more to himself than anybody, and set off after her.

When Harry finally caught up with her, he found he was at a loss for what to say. He had it all nice and planned out before. He'd corner her, apologize for being the big slimy git he was, wait to be slapped, and then that would be that. But Ginny had completely thrown him off when she'd asked him to talk.

They walked down the beach with tense silence hanging thick in the air between them.

Harry cleared his throat. "S-so, Gin, you...err...wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah," she said, softly, her eyes staring off somewhere into the horizon.

"Well?" Harry asked, getting more nervous with each passing second.

"There's something about the horizon," she said, "tntrigues me so much. It's the appeal of the illusion, I guess. You know somewhere where the land meets the sky. Haven't you ever dreamed you could go there?"

Harry just stared at her. "You wanted to talk to me about the horizon?" he asked.

"Well, yes and no. I was watching the horizon today. Well, more than that, I was watching the horizon, the ocean, and you, and I realized that life is too short, and isn't as forgiving as people. So, I wanted tell you, before life didn't forgive me for what I've done, I wanted you to know that I forgive you, Harry."

"Ginny?" Harry looked at her.

Ginny finally looked up at him. "I still love you, Harry."

Harry reached out and drew her into hist. "I wish there was a word to describe what I felt for you, Gins. Is there anything better than love?"

Ginny eased out of his embrace and closed her eyes. She reached out her hand and began tracing her fingers around Harry's face, neck, and chest.

Harry just watched her, his perfect Ginny, as she reached for him.

"What are you doing, Gins?" he asked her finally, unable to contain his curiosity anymore.

"I'm memorizing you," she answered. "I want to remember everything about you in this exact moment."

"And my substandard looks are tainting your memory?"

Ginny laughed. "It's not that. It's just, have you ever noticed that some of your memories are visual memories... and you can remember things you saw, and reviewing these memories is somewhat like flipping through a photo album. There are the snapshots of everyone you know, but, looking back, you can't remember what they said, or how they smelled, or how you felt."

She paused for a second, her face crinkled from thinking of the best way to word what she was feeling. God, she is so beautiful, Harry thought to himself.

"There are some moments," Ginny continued, "that you can remember everything about. What you heard, how you heard it, how you felt, what you felt, how it smelled, why it smelled, and for the rest of your life that moment will stay real to you. It won't be like a photo, it will be like a memory."

"Do you have any memories like that?" Harry asked her.

"I have a few."

"Tell me everything about your favourite one."

"Alright," she smiled. "We were in the sitting room at The Burrow, with everyone, and we were all watching my father's muggle television. Do you remember anything about that night?"

"I do. I remember you were sitting on my lap. We were on the big armchair."

"Visuals," she said, smiling, her eyes still closed, all the while. "Do you remember anything you felt?"

"Eventually my legs went numb?" he offered weakly.

"Exactly. I remember everything about it, though," she smiled softly.

"Would you do me the honour of refreshing my memory?" Harry smiled at her.

"Did you really think I wasn't going to?" she replied, and as her voice dipped down to barely a whisper, she began. "I remember the precise sound of your voice whenever you spoke. I remember exactly how it felt every time my stomach turned over that night, even though it did it so many times. Like it was being tied in a huge knot, and then all at once the burning cold radiating from my abdomen. I remember you not understanding the plot of the movie, and me having to explain the entire thing to you, as it went. I remember thinking how good it felt, that for the first time it was you holding me, and not me holding you. I remember the exact feeling of your hands, flat against my stomach. I remember you smelled like a mixture of rain, wind, fresh laundry and just a hint of spice. I remember the sound of your laugh, a bit unnatural sounding, as though you were unaccustomed to doing it. I remember being happier than I ever have in my entire life. Just so content with that moment."

She broke off, pausing to wipe away a tear that had escaped despite her closed eyes. Harry just stared at her, entranced completely by the veracious emotion in her voice.

Ginny took a deep breath and continued, "I remember how I could feel it on my back whenever you took a slightly larger than average breath. I remember being so content that I could almost fall asleep, except that I was so intent on you that that never would have happened. I remember that my head was on your left shoulder-"

"And how exactly was it, on my left shoulder?" Harry raised his eyebrows at her, completely forgetting that she couldn't see him.

"What do you mean how? It was on your shoulder, Harry."

Harry took her hands in his own, and carefully turned her around, wrapping his arms around her stomach as he did so. He pulled her firmly against his chest. "Was it somewhat like this?" he asked h. "Who am I to stand in the way of happiness?"

"Well, I think you're wonderful, Ronald Weasley," she declared.

"Really now?" he asked, grinning at her.

She leaned in very close to him. "Yeah, I do," she said, kissing him.

***

Ginny eased out of the kiss and turned around to face him. "Aren't you going to open your eyes now?" Harry asked her.

"Not yet," she said. "I don't want to see you this ti've been seeing you for six years. I want to feel you now. I want you to feel me."

Harry didn't need telling twice. He immediately shut his eyes, and kissed her again.