A Certain Kind of Memory

I never questioned why, in fourth year, Ron was the thing I would miss the most.

At that stage, he, along with Hermione, would have run pretty much about even.

I suppose Hermione held, and still does hold a special place

in my heart because she was the first person we saved.

We. Ron and I.

Of course it was his fault she was anywhere near that troll in the first place,

but Ron was my very first friend.

That is incredibly meaningful, now I look back on it.

Harry Potter, December, 2005.

By the time Harry was finally able to read the newspaper the next day, he'd already had to fend off hundreds of owls bearing the opinions of the public on his relationship with Draco. There were of course numerous Howlers but Draco had a very nifty spell that made those explode before they had the chance to yell and so that took care of that.

The rest of them ranged between sound support and entreaties to get himself to St. Mungo's to be checked for dangerous spells. Together they laughed about all the messages, good and bad, and admired the picture of them that adorned the front page. Draco thought it looked perfect and it did, really. Harry was standing behind Draco with his arms wrapped around him and they were both smiling at each other and at the camera. Draco had this incredibly smug smile on his face when he looked at the camera, and Harry couldn't help but put that as the cause for the pleas to get himself checked for spells. Draco looked like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.

"I'm going to ask Seamus for a copy of this," Harry said, suddenly finding it hard to control his emotions. It was the first photograph they had together as a couple. It made Harry wish that there was a way he could take this photograph with him but then, if there really was an afterlife, he would have his memories anyway.

Draco moved to stand behind him, resting his chin on Harry's shoulder. "Our first picture together," he said, echoing Harry's thoughts. "Finnegan knows his work. We look hot."

Trust Draco to make him smile again and forget the blackness coming to meet him. Harry laughed. "We do," he agreed.

"The Wizarding world's two most eligible bachelors are off the market," Draco said.

"Ah, no wonder there are so many Howlers," Harry complained. "They're all lamenting the fact that the sexy blond Malfoy lad is taken. With a capital 'T'." Harry grinned smugly, his momentary emotional wobble pushed firmly away.

"And by none other than the Chosen One," Draco drawled back, arching a smug eyebrow at Harry. "Finnegan could have thought of a better heading than 'The Chosen One Chooses', though."

"Never mind, the rest of the article is very favourable to us both. The shop should get a lot of publicity out of this story. You should be pleased."

"Oh, I am. Extremely pleased. So pleased in fact that I'm going to demand the Chosen One take his chosen one back to bed and make damned sure said chosen one really knows he's been chosen."

Harry looked bemused for a fraction of a second while all that sank in and then he laughed and lifted Draco over his shoulder and carried him through to the bedroom to do just that, while Draco took the opportunity to grope Harry's arse as he walked.

***

Seamus had also given Harry the name of a Healer that had begun his career dealing with mental illnesses, specialising in the ability to detect the truth in claims by Death Eaters who said they'd been subjected to Imperius. Apparently, eventually sickened at the harsh treatment handed out to prisoners, he moved to healing the physical needs of patients but incorporated some psychological treatment as well to produce a much better, healthier outcome.

Blaise had been most upset when Harry told him about Ginny's true state of mind and it had needed Harry to share his memories via a Pensieve before Blaise would believe him. Then he was devastated that Ginny had wanted to keep that from him.

"I think under it all she really wants help, Blaise, or she wouldn't have let me see her like that," Harry said, trying to comfort him.

"But why keep it from me?" he asked Harry.

"I suspect she feels safe letting me know because I've already seen her at her lowest back in her first year at Hogwarts. And...well, since you've been together, Ginny is the one who's kind of been the strong one; the one who earns the income and provides the home for both of you and my guess is that she doesn't want to be seen as less than that in your eyes."

"How could she ever think I'd think less of her?" Blaise responded aghast.

Harry shrugged. "I can understand that, though. But telling me is a cry for help. I helped her last time, I think she wants help again but doesn't know how to ask for it."

Blaise clutched the card Harry had given him, with the name and contact details of the Healer on it. "I'll give it a go, Harry. It can't hurt can it?"

"True," Harry agreed. "Any progress is better than where she is at now. How's the physical side of things coming?"

"Not much change," Blaise replied. "She's doing all the exercises but says that apart from the odd tingling in her toes, there's no change."

"Don't give up," Harry said, slapping Blaise on the shoulder.

In the days and weeks that followed, Blaise kept Harry up to date with Ginny's progress and it seemed things really were turning around. Blaise said that the Healer had appealed to Ginny's fiery temper. Made her see that she'd be parading herself around in public at her brother's wedding in a chair unless she got off her arse and moved.

The Healer suffered one of Ginny's famous Bat-Bogey hexes for his trouble, but it had done the trick and Ginny seemed to have recovered most of her determination and drive and realised how low she'd let herself get. She had decided that there was no way known that she was going to be Hermione's bridesmaid while she was in a chair. She'd walk down the aisle or nothing.

Harry was hoping that she'd be ready; the wedding was in two weeks.

Since the article in the paper, there had been a marked increase in the number of customers at Perfect Potions. In the beginning, most had come to have a look at the latest conquest of the Boy Who Lived and, surprised at the cheeriness of the shop, pleased that the young man behind the counter was polite and helpful and there was not a sneer in sight nor a reminder of how much better than everyone else the Malfoys were, they tried the potions on display.

And they came back.

Draco was overjoyed at the response. Harry wasn't surprised in the slightest. He knew how skilled Draco was and now the general public was getting to know that as well. Some made a point of telling Charles that they still despised Draco but he made good potions so they kept coming back as they assumed that the Ministry was keeping a close eye on things. Charles, himself from a decent pureblood family, earnt his money then, and some grudging admiration from Harry when he loudly defended Draco and steadfastly refused to be drawn into arguments, instead reiterating that Draco was a wonderful boss to work for and if they wanted to continue to harangue him then they could leave. That seemed to earn the customers admiration as well, because they'd promptly close their mouths and continue with their purchases.

Whilst they were in the process of setting up, Pansy had come along, ostensibly to help but young Jasmine, now her adopted daughter, had been such a handful that they barely achieved anything that day. As a consequence, Draco had sectioned off a part of the shop and set it up as a play area for children. He used safety cauldrons, ingredients that in no way could combine with each other to make anything dangerous and utensils that had been designed for safe child use.

'The Corner' as it was dubbed, had become an instant hit with mothers. They could leave their children in there while they browsed the shelves, looking for the right potion. As an added bonus, Draco had positioned a small table and a few chairs right next to The Corner so that the mothers could watch their children and indulge themselves in a cup of tea or coffee while they were having specialised potions made up.

Even though Charles had earned some modicum of respect from Harry, he still felt like the young man needed a good swift kick up the backside. It was the way he looked at Draco - full of avarice. It was greed and desire all at the same time. Charles wanted Draco and all he could offer him. Of course, they had not told Charles of their private financial arrangements, so as far as Charles was aware, Draco had 'money' of his own.

Harry wished Draco would fire him but he understood he was good at his job and Draco needed him. For now. But Charles Frobisher made Harry frown. He was not oblivious to the fact that Charles took every opportunity to point out to Harry how often Draco worked late and how closely they worked together. He couldn't fail to notice how Charles felt it was all right to brush against Draco's arm when he passed or touch his elbow when he was responding to something Draco said to him, or how he unfailingly leant very close to Draco every time Draco said something that made him laugh.

The worst part was that Draco encouraged him. No matter that Harry told him it was unfair unless he intended to follow through on it, Draco insisted that Charles worked that much harder for him than he would do if Draco rejected him, so he sustained this crush Charles had on him.

Therefore, Harry tended to stay away from the shop as much as he could while Charles was there. His time was fairly well utilised keeping up with Alison and checking in on Ginny - and listening to her rant about the new Healer, saying she really hated him - and continuing with his book. He was surprised at himself and the details he remembered from all those years ago. His story had reached fourth year now and whilst it wasn't a novel in any way, shape or form, it was his own words and that alone gave it an authority that other books, even more detailed ones, just wouldn't have and couldn't even aim for.

And then, of course, there was organising Ron's stag night. Seeing as he was best man. Hermione insisted that they just have a few drinks and they would. Ron would rather have gone to a pub or a bar, so they would be having a few drinks in a Muggle bar. Somewhere that had a show. A strip show. George was the main instigator of this choice, insisting that a stag night wasn't real unless there were strippers. Harry was a little dubious as he had no desire to see lots of naked or near naked women, but he acquiesced and organised the twelve of them to go to Knockers, and he would suffer Hermione's wrath at some later stage.

Everyone was meeting at Harry and Draco's flat - for appearances - and they began arriving shortly after 7 o'clock. Ground rules had been set down early. George was banned from carrying any Weasley products on his person, or anyone else's, while they were in the club. Much as he grumbled about that rule, he accepted it, as he knew that when inebriated he tended to forget about being surrounded by Muggles and let off a lot of Weasley trick products indiscriminately.

Seamus was under strict instructions to only drink beer as spirits made him behave oddly. He was also under the 'no telling' rule. Whatever happened on the night stayed out of the paper.

Percy was not allowed to mention work even once. For every time he talked of work he was to down a glass of beer. No one thought that Bill or Charlie needed instructions on how to behave, but Charlie said that Davis, his boyfriend, was on a tight rein as far as how much he had to drink because he tended to get a little affectionate with whomever he was standing next to. Arthur looked upon all the rules and regulations with interest.

Harry took it upon himself to be the one to keep Ron out of trouble and Draco decided to oversee everyone with an air of being above all the base behaviour. Neville and Blaise rarely drank in any case and neither of them was looking to have a late night, as Neville had his family to return home to and Blaise didn't want to leave Ginny on her own for too long.

The evening was progressing well with everyone enjoying themselves and Harry thought that they might make it home a little under the weather but none the worse for it - apart from a few sore heads the next morning.

Unfortunately, somehow Seamus managed to chat up the barmaid with his Irish brogue and she bought him a couple of drinks. And they weren't beer, either. Two shots weren't enough to make Seamus pass out; but they were enough to make him effusively drunk.

Harry groaned and knew he'd have to slow his own drinking down in order to take care of Seamus. Between Draco and himself they should be able to manage.

Besides, the show was starting and Seamus did have an eye for the pretty girls. Not that Harry found the show interesting in anything more than an aesthetic way, but the girls were attractive, he supposed.

Seamus thought they were in any case.

"Oh, me darlin'," Seamus slurred, waving a couple of twenty pound notes at the girl. "Come dansh over here for ush. Me and me mates, 'Arry 'n' Draco."

Harry was hoping that the girl would ignore Seamus because he was drunk but she took one look at Seamus' friends and came right on over, especially seeing as Seamus was holding up a lot more money than he'd thought.

The girl had long dark hair that fell like a curtain down her back. Her bare back. She had one item of clothing left on and that was a slip of material for underwear that revealed as much as it showed, Harry thought.

He risked a glimpse at Draco, who was regarding the girl with cool disinterest. When he turned back to the girl she was on her knees in front of the three of them, swaying her hips while Seamus tucked the money under the string of her underwear. All their friends were cheering and clapping and egging them on from behind.

The she turned and bent over on all fours spreading her legs and rolling her hips suggestively. Harry was almost embarrassed for the girl and he blushed. Seamus was on the verge of drooling but he turned to say something to Harry, or to slur something to him anyway, and he stopped, obviously noticing Harry's blush, and narrowed his eyes.

"Oi, Harry, mate, and wouldn't yer be feelin' like yer in the wrong place, now?" Seamus said, surprisingly coherent when his Irish brogue was obvious. He threw his arm around Harry's shoulder.

"Nah, it's alright, Seamus," Harry assured him.

"But there'd be four of yer 'ere an' there should be some entertainment ta suit yer tastes."

"Seamus, relax," Harry said, giving the girl who'd come to dance for them a look and finding, thankfully, that she'd already moved on to someone else.

Seamus shook his head in the deliberately controlled way of the inebriated and then in a sudden move that Harry swore he should not be able to do in his state, jumped up on stage and began to strip.

"You boys'd be after some male flesh to watch, an' las' time I looked I be all male."

Harry was so stunned he didn't react immediately. Neither did anyone else. Ron was pissing himself laughing, as were Charlie and Davis. Most everyone else merely looked on amused and even Draco was giving Seamus an appraising look.

Harry tried to get him to stop, thinking that the security guards would throw them all out, but Seamus ignored him and gave up on the buttons of his shirt and ripped it off over his head, flinging the shirt out into the crowd to the cheers, jeers and catcalls of the audience.

Privately, Harry thought that security must be a bit slack, because if Seamus had been after one of the girls, she would have been waiting way too long for assistance. In this case, it was lucky, it gave Harry time to try and coax Seamus down. Futilely, as it turned out, as Seamus was enjoying himself so much that he refused to come down and managed to drop his trousers and his underwear to his knees before two rather large men manhandled him from the stage and out the door, pants still round his ankles.

Harry merely hung his head in his hands before gathering the rest of the laughing group and collecting Seamus on their way out.

The next morning saw many sore heads and calls for hangover potion but they all agreed firstly that it had been a fun night and secondly that no one would tell anyone about the night that hadn't been there.

Harry kicked them all out about mid afternoon and collapsed back into bed, wrapping himself around Draco and falling asleep, leaving worrying about anything until the next day.

***

Two days before the wedding, Hermione Floo called him for what he thought was the tenth time making sure he had the ring and that he would ensure Ron would be dressed and ready to go on time because it was up to her to be late, not the groom. In fact he'd just started to protest about hounding him so much, even though he knew she just wanted everything to run like clockwork, when she interrupted him.

"Harry James Potter, what is the meaning of this?" Even Draco stopped what he was doing at the tone in that voice.

Harry of course had no idea what she was talking about. And told her so.

"When I went to pay the bill for Regal Receptions, they kindly informed me that our bill had been taken care of. They were under instructions, they said, not to reveal who paid the bill so I want to know what you know about this."

Oh damn, Hermione didn't seem at all pleased. Harry frowned and bit his lip; had he insulted them by doing that? Well, shit.

"Oh, that," Harry said, quietly. "Yes, it was me. I had no idea what to give you two as a wedding present and you'd mentioned putting off buying a house for a while due to the cost of the reception and you shouldn't have to do that, so it's my wedding gift to you both. If I've insulted y--"

But he didn't get any further, as Hermione interrupted him.

"Oh, Harry," she said, sounding overcome. "Wait, we're coming through."

Harry ended the call and a couple of minutes later Hermione and Ron stepped out of the Floo and Harry had his arms full of Hermione and Ron was slapping him on the back.

"Harry, mate," Ron said. "Bloody hell." Ron seemed lost for words, too.

"Harry, that is the sweetest thing, thank you so much," Hermione said when she'd stopped strangling him. "First the books and now this, I hardly know what to say." She was in danger of letting tears slip down her cheeks.

"Don't say anything guys, just enjoy it," Harry said, chest filling with happiness to see how thrilled they were.

After they'd left, Draco wrapped him up in warm arms, kissing him deeply. "Harry Potter, philanthropist. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" Draco murmured against his lips.

Harry shrugged, preferring to go back to the kissing, thank you very much. "I'm not. I just like helping out my friends when I can," he said. "More kissing, please."

"Oh, I think we can do better than kissing, Mr. Potter." Draco smiled seductively as he grabbed Harry by the wrist and dragged him off to the bedroom.

***

Finally, the day of Ron and Hermione's wedding arrived. As was usual in England in mid December, it was cold and dreary, but that had no bearing on the day as all the guests were Apparating to the small chapel attached to the reception centre first for the service.

Harry was on top of the world. Ron was too nervous to be ecstatic about getting married and no matter how much Harry tried to calm him, Ron still periodically turned a sickly shade of green and ran for the bathroom. It was reminiscent of their days at Hogwarts when Ron became ill thinking about playing badly for the Quidditch team. Nothing had worked then, either, other than Ron thinking he'd taken a dose of Felix Felicis and he certainly didn't have any of that to hand right now.

By lunch time, most of Ron's family had been through to check up on him and both Harry and Draco were ready to hex the next Weasley that called, seeing as all they managed to do was make him more nervous. Arthur called in to wish him the best and had a twenty minute conversation about how to keep a woman happy, which appeared to be 'agree with everything she says', as far as Harry could tell.

Bill wanted to give Ron advice for the wedding night, seeing as he was the only other Weasley boy married. Ron politely set him straight by assuring Bill that as he and Hermione had been living together for the last three years, he had a fair idea of what to expect. Charlie called in for no reason at all, only because his mother had told him to and was nagging him so much that he had to escape, and because Davis had hidden in the bedroom they were sleeping in while they visited and he hadn't seen hide nor hair of him for the whole day.

George tried to feed Ron some toffees that changed his hair colour but Draco was onto that and stopped Ron eating them just in the nick of time. Then he became maudlin, saying that he wished Fred could be there to see that their little Ronniekins had grown up all right after all. They'd all become a little emotional at that point, remembering Fred, until Draco bought them all tea and cake and changed the subject. Harry appreciated it.

Percy arrived and immediately complained that Harry hadn't been doing his job properly because Ron's robes hadn't been starched to within an inch of their life. Harry bristled but didn't say anything, not wanting to start an argument on Ron's big day. He needn't have worried, though, for Ron settled the argument very succinctly.

"Stuff it, Perce. I'd go spare if I had to wear robes like you do. I'll look as good as Hermione wants me to and that is that."

Draco grinned at Ron and said "Well done, Weasley,"

To which Ron replied. "You stuff it too, Ferret." But it was all in good humour. And the insulting banter was par for the course.

A few hours later, Ron and Harry were standing in the chapel waiting for Hermione and the rest of the bridal party to arrive. Harry had finally given in and made Ron take a calming draught, which Draco had laced with something to reduce the drowsiness that was normally a side effect.

When Hermione made her entrance on her father's arm, Harry's breath caught as much as Ron's did. She looked radiant and Harry felt so proud and privileged to be a part of their lives and to have such an important role in this ceremony. Ginny, walking and looking incredible, led the party down the aisle, smiling and nodding at people she knew.

Hermione only had eyes for Ron and her face was wreathed in a most serene smile; a heartfelt one that spoke of the deep love she had for the man at the end of the aisle. Harry's throat closed over a little at that thought and he swallowed hard. Hermione and Ron marrying was ending another stage in their lives and beginning a new one. They would begin that new life together and Harry would have to renegotiate his part in that new life.

For a short time.

Again, his heart ached for something that he could never have; he would miss out on being part of this new whole 'one'.

He was so intent on his inner thoughts that he almost missed the vicar asking for the ring.

After that he paid more attention; saw the love shining in their eyes, heard the commitment they made to each other and felt the hope of a new life joined together...never to be alone again. He had no doubt that those two would grow old together and die peacefully in their beds at age a hundred and fifty or something, after having six children, who gave them twenty-seven grandchildren one hundred and seventeen great grandchildren and about ninety-five great, great grandchildren and counting. Happy for them didn't even come close to the emotions running through Harry as he watched them exchange rings and vows and be married.

He cheered along with everyone else and pulled the bride in for a hug but, as happy as he felt for them and glad to be there, as privileged as he was to have been part of the service, he still felt detached from it; as if he were watching it from a distance and not a part of it at all. Horribly it all felt like he was going through the motions, acting mechanically with no passion behind it.

"You're a million miles away, aren't you?" Draco said later at the reception.

"It's that noticeable?" he asked wryly.

"Only to me and, perhaps, Lovegood. She doesn't miss much that one."

Harry smiled. "Come and dance with me as soon as my duties are over?" He hated that there seemed to be a desperate quality to his request, but there it was. Draco merely nodded and kissed his cheek, giving his arm a squeeze at the same time.

"I'll save all my dances for you, Harry," he whispered.

Grateful for the attention, but unable to articulate it, Harry merely pulled Draco close and hugged him. The solid feel of Draco in his arms was undeniably a comfort. When he pulled back and looked into those grey eyes, he saw only caring and disquiet, which he rushed to calm, by smiling at him genuinely.

"I want all your dances, Draco," he said. "I want to monopolise the most beautiful person in the room." Because Draco really did look spectacular tonight, having lashed out some of his hard earned money for a new suit.

Draco scoffed. "I bet you say that to all the boys, Harry."

"Only the ones I'm taking home and have some chance of shagging," he joked back.

"You might want to sharpen up your seduction lines, Potter. If that's the best you can come up with then I am surprised that you weren't a virgin when we got together."

"Well, something must have worked because you sleep with me every night," Harry replied, smiling.

"Still doesn't mean you're getting shagged tonight."

"Hmm, we'll see about that," Harry murmured. He thought that he might give Draco something to think about so he leant in close to Draco's ear, so no one else could hear and whispered. "When we get home, I am going to tie you face down on the bed so that you cannot run away from me. Then I plan on spanking that hot arse of yours until it is pink and sore looking. Then I am going to shove inside you and fuck you until I cannot move. And I can guarantee you that you will give out before I do. How will it feel to be fucked so hard that even had you the energy to move, your brain will have forgotten how to function?"

Harry was more than gratified to see that Draco's face had flushed a very attractive shade of pink.

***

There came a point in the evening, though, where Harry had to pay strict attention to his surroundings and put all his concentration on the married couple. As the best man, he was required to give a speech and toast the bride and groom. When he stood and held his glass, he turned to look at his two best friends and found that he had no words that could even come close to saying how much he wished for their happiness.

The worst thing was his emotions were threatening to overcome him and he swallowed and remembered that this was their night and it would be terribly bad form for the best man to make a scene. A memorable speech, yes, a blubbering emotional scene, no.

Gathering himself, he smiled at them both. "Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger," he started. "Now Weasley." He grinned and corrected himself, while the guests sniggered quietly. "It's the duty of the best man, apparently, to regale all Ron's friends and family with tales of misadventures and pranks and drunken silly incidents."

Ron looked at him horrified for a moment, obviously wracking his brain to remember anything mortifying that Harry might reveal.

"But I think our exploits are fairly well known and I have no desire to give his brothers any more ammunition." Harry grinned when everyone laughed at Ron's huge sigh of relief. "So, I'm just going to say that I love you both dearly. You two are my best friends and my family." Harry gave them both sincere smiles, then turned to the guests and lifted his glass. "And I'd ask everyone to be upstanding and raise your glasses." He waited for everyone to stand, then looked back at Ron and Hermione, his glass in the air. "To Ron and Hermione, may all your troubles be small and your joys numerous."

He was glad to finish that without his voice cracking, though he was sure it went a little raw there at the end. When everyone had responded with "To Ron and Hermione," he drank along with them, sitting down gratefully as Ron stood to respond.

It was while Ron was making his own speech that Harry caught Draco's eye. Draco was looking intently at him and not paying attention to what Ron was saying. Harry knew this because everyone around him laughed and Draco just kept staring. He really could get lost in those eyes, Harry thought to himself. The look was penetrating and Harry found himself wondering if Draco could see how conflicted he was; how distressed this whole wedding was making him feel, yet how joyous he was at his friends wonderful day and good fortune to have found their perfect other half.

Harry made himself look away from that scrutiny, as he needed to pay attention to Ron now, especially as he seemed to be the butt of one of Ron's tales of his early forays into gay bars. Trust Ron to bring up the fact that Harry was so anxious about going alone to a gay bar that he dragged along his straight best friend. And what was worse, said straight best friend got hit on more times than he cared to count and more times than Harry because Harry, the Chosen One, the Saviour, opted to cast a 'Notice-Me-Not' Charm on himself which rather defeated the purpose don't you think?

Harry laughed good-naturedly at that but soon enough his eyes found Draco's again. It was oddly comforting to know that in a room full of people whose attention was all on the newly weds, as it should be, that there was one person whose sole focus was himself. It felt less lonely. And wasn't that why he'd wanted to share his life with someone?

When the speeches were finally over, Ron led Hermione out onto the dance floor and the band began to play a beautiful song for the couple to dance to. Harry watched them move to the music, gazing into each other's eyes and smiling and the ache in his chest stretched.

After a short time, he took Ginny's arm and escorted her to the dance floor, joining the newly weds. Ginny was still moving slightly stiffly, but she had come such a long way in the last couple of weeks that Harry was impressed at how mobile she actually was.

"You look beautiful tonight, Gin," Harry said as he guided her around the floor. Her brilliant smile was enough for him to see that she had pulled herself out of her depression and it made him extremely happy.

"Thank you. I still get tired easily, though, so I've used a Lightening Charm," she replied, smiling. "It seems I have you to thank, Harry," she said. Harry looked perplexed.

"What do you mean?"

"Blaise told me what you did for me," she said, and Harry sighed. "Did you think he wouldn't? We have no secrets."

"But you didn't tell him how down you were, did you?"

She looked down for a moment before looking back at him with an expression that asked for understanding. "It's not that I deliberately kept it from him. It was more that..." She tilted her head to one side as if thinking how to express herself. "More that I didn't understand how I was. Sometimes you don't get to know you're depressed, if that makes sense," she said. "It wasn't something I had control over, not conscious control, but subconsciously I obviously knew what was going on, which was why I let someone know, and who better than someone who'd saved me before?"

She smiled sadly at him. "Will I ever stop needing you to save me?"

Harry almost broke at that.

Clearing his throat, he replied, "You did most of it on your own, you know. You just needed someone that understood what you were going through to give you the right motivation, that's all."

"Whatever. Thank you, Harry." She smiled as her father approached and cut in.

Harry danced with Molly and with Mrs. Granger with no further yanks to his heartstrings, before ending with Hermione.

"Have I told you today how radiant you look?" Harry smiled warmly at her.

"That tends to happen to one when one is happy," she replied as they danced. "I've seen you happier, though. What's wrong?"

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. Was he that obvious? And why was she so observant on her wedding day? "Nothing's wrong," he covered, cleverly he thought. "It's an emotional day and I'm thrilled for you and maybe a bit wistful hoping that one day it will be my wedding," he lied. He knew there would be no wedding day for him. If he was wistful about anything it was that. No, he wasn't wistful, the futile twisting unfairness of it all stung him too much for wistful.

Her hand squeezed his and she smiled. "One day it will be. Who knows maybe you've found your perfect match in Draco," she said, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Harry looked around for said perfect match and found him dancing with Fleur, their blond heads standing out among the crowd. His expression softened. "Draco? Nah, he's..." Harry watched him glide around the floor gracefully, smiling and laughing at whatever Fleur said as if it were most amusing. He looked bloody amazing, Harry thought for what must surely be the hundredth time today. Draco looked over at Harry and gave him one of those dazzling smiles that held a hint of suggestion and thus was entirely private. Damn. "...Damn," he said aloud. "Maybe I have at that."

What a shocking discovery to make waltzing with one of your best friends on her wedding day! Especially seeing as he hadn't planned on his relationship with Draco being anything more than a temporary thing. He'd liked Draco, thought him damned sexy, had wanted a relationship with him, but he'd never planned on falling in love with him. Never. He couldn't.

Some of the horror must have shown on his face because Hermione moved closer and whispered. "And this is a bad thing?" she asked.

"It is when I wasn't planning on it," Harry said, vaguely.

With the optimism of the newly married, Hermione just gave him a great big satisfied smile. "But it's wonderful, Harry," she said. "Ron and I were beginning to worry that you'd never find anyone."

He just smiled weakly back at her, nodding and continuing the dance.

Now what was he going to do?

***

As soon as he could he excused himself and headed to the men's room for a breather. To give himself some time to think about this latest revelation and complication in his life.

Way back in ...oh, in August... was it that long ago? Gosh time flies when you're dying, he thought cynically. Way back in August, he'd thought that it didn't matter if he fell in love because he didn't need to tell Draco, he could just continue on and bask in the emotions that he'd never thought to experience. It was quite another thing to actually be in love and know that possibly within six months you'd be dead. How the fuck did you even say goodbye to someone you loved like that? How was he supposed to give up his love when the time came that he couldn't hide his illness anymore? How was he to break up with Draco?

Maybe he should do it now, before things got too entrenched and he became too dependent on Draco being with him. But that wasn't fair either, he told a frowning self in the mirror. It was fucking traumatic enough to know he'd have to let Draco go anyway, why couldn't he enjoy being in love for whatever time he had left?

It disturbed him to see that his face had become haunted, full of his tormented thinking, and so he hid it by bowing his head over the sink and splashing cold water on his face. Momentarily immobilised by grief he stood there and let the water drip from his nose back into the sink. He watched as each drop trickled down the plughole, counted them one by one until he reached twenty-five and they stopped. It made him laugh at the irony. Twenty-five drops of water for twenty-five years of life and then it just...stops.

Just then the door opened and someone came in and walked through to the urinals. Harry gathered himself, wiping his face dry and giving his hands another wash just so he could look himself in the mirror again to make sure that his expression was as normal as it was going to get, pale though it was.

For some reason, he needed to hang on to Draco right now - as a kind of anchor to keep him from slipping into despair. Even though loving and losing him was the current cause of the despair, it was still Draco he needed right now.

He found him on the dance floor, dancing with a very pink-faced Molly Weasley. Harry smiled. If anyone had told him that one day he'd be watching Draco Malfoy dance happily with Molly Weasley, he'd have laughed. Almost as hard as if they'd told him that one day he'd be in love with the blond Slytherin that had made their lives hell through school.

But there he was dancing and smiling and here Harry was watching him, his heart rapidly threatening to take over his chest entirely. Draco caught sight of Harry and he smiled. God, he was in so much trouble. There must have been something desperate in his expression, as Draco said a few words to Molly and led her off the dance floor. Then he made his way to Harry, standing there looking into his face intently. Harry couldn't decide whether Draco was waiting for something or trying to read Harry's emotions.

In the end, Draco just held out his arms and smiled and Harry fell into them and clung, trembling like a scared child who'd lost his way and had been found again. It was fortunate that the band was still playing music slow enough to disguise their clinging as intimate swaying because Harry didn't think his body would cooperate with a tune that required him to move more than was necessary.

Not yet, anyway. The very weight of Draco's body in his arms was comforting, solid, real enough to calm the paradox of the sick joke the universe was playing on him. For now, for the time he had left, for now, for his ever after he would hold onto this, hold to Draco and remember to live.

Draco was quiet as they swayed, seeming intuitively to know that Harry needed some time. Arms that promised Harry hope and cajoled life back into his memory remained banded around his shoulders. Hands that retold stories to his nerve endings of the longing for passion were the balm and the cause combined.

"If you make a mess on my new suit, I'll have to move out, you know." Draco's soft yet amused voice danced at his neck, tickling his ear. Harry smiled despite himself.

"Then who'll pick up all your towels?" he replied, turning his head slightly and breathing the words under Draco's jaw. "You'll get buried under a pile of wet towels."

"I'll convince some young, pretty thing to move in with me and he can pick up all my towels. Some people think I'm gorgeous, so it shouldn't be too difficult."

Yet another reason to not let Draco go until things had gone almost their full distance; he didn't think he could bear to see Draco with anyone else. He'd never deny him his happiness, not ever, it had become the one thing he wanted most - apart from the obvious - but he didn't want to still be here when he found it again, with someone else.

Harry sighed theatrically and shifted in Draco's arms so that their chests were pressed together and their faces so close when they blinked they felt the tickle of the others eyelashes. "You win," he whispered. "No messing with your suit."

"I always win, Potter." Draco laughed, because of how ridiculously untrue that was, though if Harry could make him win at everything from now on and forever then he would.

Harry smiled into those dancing eyes that still held a hint of unease, a question. He smiled a reassurance that everything was all right and he noticed the subtle change in Draco's bearing, the relief.

"Have I told you today how great you look?" Harry asked. Draco preened.

"Only a few times; I think I need to hear it at least once more."

"I just told you again, prat," Harry said, his mood lightening considerably with Draco's playful vanity.

Draco relented. "Well I always look great, not like that great aunt of the Weasleys. What on earth is that on her head? It looks like a hippogriff threw up its breakfast on her," Draco exclaimed, appearing to be disgusted and Harry let out a loud guffaw of laughter.

It was like they'd both released a breath; the tension seemed to slip away and Draco snuggled up into Harry's chest as they swayed in time to the music. "That's better," he murmured. "I still have an arse that seemed rather interested in that spanking you promised me earlier and I'd rather you not look like you just lost your best friend while you did it."

Harry couldn't even reply to that, he just hung onto Draco while they danced, anticipation smothering the last little flare of self pity. So he was in love with an amazing man who could make him smile through anything and who cared enough to understand when no words were needed. Harry had no expectations of Draco being in love with him, but he knew he cared.

And that was enough.