A Certain Kind of Memory

For some reason, speaking of fate and destiny, mortality and grief

holds no interest for me at this point in my life.

I've been there, done that all too often.

After the war, Hermione used to make me read some of her books on

philosophy, which is where some of the quotes came from

that I use as chapter headings in this book.

She said that after having the near-death (or death) experience

that I should find out more about it.

But, you know, after the dust settles from getting all worked up

over emotional pondering of these deep universal themes,

nothing changes.

New insight makes no difference to the outcome,

no difference to anything.

It doesn't even give you a new perspective on things.

So, it's all rather pointless.

Harry Potter, June 2006.

"What do you want to do for your birthday this year?" Harry asked Draco about a week before the big day. Things had been going fairly well for him; there were some small indications that his 'condition' was pushing its way through the weekly potion again about three weeks ago, so he'd started taking it every 4 days, and he seemed to be back on an even keel. For now. There would come a time when even taking the potion every day wouldn't cover it up and then he knew that would be the time to tell Draco.

But that wasn't now and now was where he wanted to be.

Draco stretched in bed, his lithe body tense and muscles taut for a moment before he relaxed and rolled on to his side, snuggling back into Harry. Harry's arm wrapped around him, stroking the soft skin of his shoulder and arm. God, he loved touching Draco.

"I was thinking of something a bit different seeing as there are kids with the group and we had so much fun at Easter. It will be summer, so how about the beach?"

Harry was a bit shocked with that pronouncement. Draco was once more comfortably well-off with the success of his shop. In fact, he'd started paying rent back in February and had also just about repaid Harry's loan as well. Therefore, he'd assumed Draco would revert back to enjoying those higher-class things like expensive restaurants or trips overseas or expensive designer clothes. Well, he did spend a lot of money on decent clothes but that was generally his only extravagance. Instead, he had chosen to go to the beach?

"All of us?" Harry asked, still a bit shell-shocked.

"Why not? We could find a nice, clean, quiet beach and all spend the day enjoying the sun, trying to eat ice-cream before it melts and running to wash the melted bits off in the water. I remember doing that as a child," Draco said, fond remembrance in his voice.

"I've never been to the beach," Harry said.

"Well, that's settled then. I'm going to the beach for my birthday." He grinned like a kid at Christmas.

"I guess we are," Harry said, thinking that he was so glad to be doing this before it was too late and he wondered why he'd not thought of doing it before. He kissed Draco on the head. "I'll tell the others. We'll make it on a Sunday though, that way everyone can come. Maybe your mother might come over?"

"That would be brilliant if she would," Draco said. "And Teddy and Aunt Andromeda."

"Great," Harry grinned. I'm going to the beach, he thought happily.

***

A week later, preparations were underway for what Harry termed the 'expedition of the year'. Because, of course, no trip to the beach could possibly be a matter of shorts, a towel, sunglasses, sunscreen, sandals and a bucket and spade. No, it needed to include coolers for cold drinks, bags of toys for the children, enough food to feed an army, changes of clothes, sun shades, body boards, cameras and assorted other paraphernalia in accordance with whatever Pansy decided Jasmine might need.

Eventually, they all arrived on Llanddwyn beach in Northern Wales. Luckily, due to the relative inaccessibility of the beach it was not over populated with other beach goers. It didn't take them long to set up the sun shades and lay towels on the sand, leaving Harry free to have a good look at the sea. He wandered barefoot in the warm sand down to the water's edge, captivated by the small ripples that seemed to chase his toes up the sand and the way the early summer sun glinted in grey tints off the tips of the waves. He was standing there, smiling, when Draco walked up behind him and slipped his arms around his waist.

"Do you like it?" he asked, kissing Harry's ear with his sun-warmed lips.

"It's so...huge," Harry replied, leaning into him, using Draco's arms like an anchor holding him to this world. "It makes you feel so small and insignificant in the universe, seeing how endless this is."

"Never insignificant," Draco said. "I always think that because I'm standing on the sand right where the waves roll in, that I'm standing on the edge of the world, and I could step in and be swallowed up by the universe if I let it, but I could also float and be a part of that universe instead."

"Kind of like saying that you can choose how it affects you by altering how you adapt to it?"

"That sounds about right," Draco said. "But enough deep thinking for today. It's my birthday party and I want to have some fun."

Harry nodded and turned his head to kiss Draco's cheek, then grinned and dragged him by the hand into the waves, still fully clothed. Draco yelped of course and spluttered about the seawater ruining his decent clothes when Harry splashed him but when a particularly well aimed splash of water splattered in his face, he gasped.

'Right, this means war," he yelled and gave a loud whoop, before scooping as much water as he could into his hands and swooshing it towards Harry.

Harry merely laughed and ran away, wading deeper into the water, ignoring the fact that he still had his clothes on; a drying charm would take care of those later. This was simply too much fun. The water was cold as it was still early summer; the days not yet long enough and warm enough to heat the water. But he loved how it tingled and fizzed against his skin; how it made the hairs on his arms and legs sit up and take notice.

On the beach, he could just make out the others shedding clothes down to their swim trunks and bathing costumes, before running through the shallow water to join them but he ignored them and changed direction, running towards Draco instead. When he came close enough, he leapt at him, hands finding Draco's shoulders which he pushed. Draco made a startled squeaking noise, staggered under both their weights and fell backwards, creating a large splash.

Still chuckling when he came up for air, Harry brushed the wet hair from his face and eyes and looked around in the waist deep water for Draco. It was a lucky thing that he'd left his glasses back on the beach or he would have lost them by now; but he lamented the fact that he had such bad eyesight that he needed them. Right now, specifically, because he couldn't for the life of him see where Draco had gone. He'd disappeared.

Frantically he searched, bleary eyed both from drips of water sliding down his forehead out of his hair and the fact that he was as blind as a bat without his glasses. He was just about ready to call everyone else to come and help look, when something grabbed his legs and pulled hard, making him fall under the water in a flail of hands and feet.

When he finally found his feet again, it was to hear Draco laughing at him.

"Gotchya!" he sang, dancing out of the reach of Harry's grabbing hands, trying to get revenge. But he loved every minute of it; this was turning out to be the best day he could remember in such a long time.

Then Seamus, Blaise and Ron ganged up and all jumped on him at the same time dunking him again and he wasn't so sure anymore.

Later, after he and Draco claimed victory when they seized all three protagonists' swimming trunks and yanked them down, leaving them flailing and trying to cover themselves and not trip over the shorts round their ankles, he felt it was definitely the best day ever. There'd been a couple of times when his left arm felt shaky and weak but it had obeyed him when he concentrated on it, so he placed that worry where it belonged. For another time. Nothing was going to ruin this day.

There were sandcastles to build and by tacit agreement they let the kids win; Jasmine deciding that her pink headband made a much better flag than Draco's underwear. No one disagreed but Harry. He quite liked Draco's underwear thanks very much, especially if it meant Draco wasn't wearing it.

Harry decided that Luna's sandcastle was the best. Mind, hers looked like a traditional Muggle mermaid. Harry had no idea how she'd made the tail look like it had battlements and a moat, but covered with seaweed and rocks and some left over pieces of fruit, the entire thing looked a bit like a cross between The Little Mermaid and Carmen Miranda.

Only Seamus and Hermione knew who that was and they laughed and agreed when Harry mentioned it; everyone else just rolled their eyes and carried on.

There was, of course, food and birthday cake to eat - after they'd sung the appropriate song. Draco had insisted they not clap once for each year at the end of the song, saying he'd rather not remember he was getting older, but he gave in gracefully when Jasmine began to clap anyway.

Ginny had bought along a couple of Quaffles from a Quidditch set and they set up a sort of ground Quidditch game, tossing Quaffles to each other and running to throw them through some 'goals' made of sticks stuck in the sand. The girls played the boys at first but after one too many rough tackles, the girls gave up and let the boys play by themselves. Plus Ginny. She refused to stop playing, calling them all wimps and boasting that she put up with worse on the Quidditch pitch.

She changed her tune when she was on the bottom of a stack of boys, though. Out of breath and laughing her head off, she stormed up the beach yelling that Blaise needn't think he was getting sex for a while. The rest of the boys all commiserated with Blaise and Harry and Draco playfully offered their services in a mock seduction scene, which scandalised some of the other people on the beach, but left everyone else sending them wolf whistles and cat calls.

Much later, as the sun was slowly dropping into the sea casting the soft brilliant hues of orange and red and purple shooting across the bases of the few clouds that lingered, Harry and Draco walked, hand in hand along the beautiful sand. The crash of the waves sending fizzing floods of water over their toes made them dance and also made them smile at each other.

Harry caught Draco in his arms and kissed him soundly as a rogue late breaking wave crashed over their knees, making them sway in the sudden cold water.

"This has been the best day," Draco said, arms sliding up Harry's back under his t-shirt.

"I never knew the beach was such fun," Harry said, looking into Draco's face, seeing the sun drenched skin with tiny crystals of salt hiding in his eyebrows. He was glad that Draco had been so adamant about sun protection all day; it meant that they had been able to enjoy the sunshine and remain free from sunburn. And with Draco's pale skin, Harry was sure he'd burn easily.

"We came here when I was little," Draco said resting his head on Harry's shoulder, moving into Harry's arms naturally. "Father and mother never deigned to play on the beach like we have, but I had fun making sandcastles and swimming."

Harry smiled, his skin feeling tight and stretched over his bones, the result of a long day in the warm sun. It felt...perfect. There was no other way to describe the day and how he felt right now. There was a man he'd come to love warm and affectionate in his arms after a wonderful laughter filled day in the sun. What could ever be better than that? He could hardly articulate how grateful he was to Draco for allowing him to experience such pleasure with him.

"I can just see you on the beach as a small child. I bet you terrorised everyone." Harry kissed Draco's temple, feeling him shake with laughter.

"And you'd be right. I used to complain that we couldn't bring the house-elves and so I'd set off on expeditions to find my way home or sometimes I'd just disappear for the sake of it. I knew they didn't really want to be there and were only doing it to indulge their only child, so I'd make life hard for them. I was a right little shit."

"Dudley teased me once about going to the beach," Harry said, softly. "They'd been away for two whole weeks and I'd had to stay with Mrs. Figg and her cats. When he came home he'd lost some weight and, what was worse, he had a tan and you can't imagine how much more formidable he looked to a six year old with a tan as compared to pasty white he was normally."

Harry wondered what had become of Dudley. The last time he'd seen him, they'd not parted on bad terms. Perhaps he should contact him and see what he was up to. Should he sort of inform them that he was dying? It wasn't as if they cared or anything but did he owe them that? To at least make them aware that he wasn't going to be around much longer?

"He sounds like a right bully," Draco said.

Shrugging lightly, Harry looked away to watch the waves rolling over themselves. "I suppose. In the end he was decent; he just had his parents' bias to overcome. Like someone else I know." Harry smiled and looked back at Draco, who was rolling his eyes and pulling back.

Draco took Harry's hand and pulled him back up onto the sand and out of the water. "Where are we going?" he asked.

"I remember what else I used to do when I was here," he replied enigmatically.

"What was that?"

"Hide in the sand dunes."

"And why would we want to do that, Mr. Malfoy?"

"So I can wrap myself around your hot body and you can fuck me as part of my birthday present," Draco replied, simply.

Harry growled. "Race you there."

***

The happy glow that surrounded Harry from his day at the beach lingered for more than a few days afterwards. Harry couldn't remember when he'd ever been so happy. Every day, he was being drawn more and more into loving Draco, until now the man had filled his soul as well as his heart. It was in the little things Draco did, like always kissing him good morning and always kissing him goodnight, like little promises of love, of commitment.

Draco made coffee better than anyone Harry knew and he never failed to have a cup ready and waiting for Harry in the morning, nor after a meal. No matter that he didn't drink it himself; he'd taken it upon himself to find out how Harry liked his coffee and then made sure that Harry had the best available. And that's all there was to it. This thoughtful side of Draco wasn't always readily visible to anyone else; in fact most people when they met him took him to be more aloof and detached. To his friends, though and to Harry, whom he loved, he was extremely thoughtful.

Harry still felt guilt at not telling Draco how ill he was, but the very fact of the closeness of the end now pushed it away. Draco was happy; and Harry was trying the best he could to make sure that Draco stayed happy. In love and happy. Now that they'd fallen in love, Harry wanted it to be the love of a lifetime, despite that it would be short lived.

It was a flying incident about a week after the beach day that sent Harry to the Healer every day. He and Draco had gone flying just for fun. Harry had organised a picnic lunch out in an isolated spot on a hillside and begged Draco to leave the shop in the capable hands of his new assistant, an older woman who was extremely efficient and was definitely not after Draco's body or his money or anything else apart from her job.

They'd had the best fun, zipping through the sky and skimming treetops dangerously. Draco had demurred at first, not wanting to take the risk of serious injury, but Harry had dared him.

"You scared?" Harry taunted.

"No," Draco scoffed. "Just worried that if anything happens to me you won't get your money back."

Harry could tell he was worried and to be fair, just because Harry didn't have as much to lose he shouldn't be egging Draco on, but he had faith in Draco's skills. "You can do it," Harry cajoled.

Reluctantly, Draco agreed and they sped off, wind racing through their hair and tousling it crazily. After a few moments Draco relaxed and was as daring as Harry, flying as close to the tops of the trees as he could without touching them and sending himself spinning off course and crashing.

Harry felt it in his grip before he felt it in his arm, the muscles in his left arm weakened suddenly and his trajectory got thrown off, which meant he had to immediately correct it. He just about succeeded, but clipped the top of a tree, sending him spinning away, thankfully not down into the trees, but up into the air. With only one hand to try and pull himself back into line, his grip slipped and he fell sideways, only just managing to hang on to the broom with his one good hand.

For one breathless moment, Harry's fate rested on whether or not he could continue to hang on until Draco caught up to him. Then some ability to function returned to his arm and hand and he managed to drag himself back on the broom and bring it under control. White faced and shaking he let Draco berate him for being irresponsible for a while until he'd recovered, stopping Draco's tirade with a kiss when they landed back at the picnic site.

After that, he went to the Healer every day and he heard the clock ticking louder.

It heralded a shift in Harry's perspective. Daily potions meant that he probably only had a few weeks left and it seemed like things slowed down. All the things he'd wanted to do had been done. There were things he'd still love to do - he'd love to have another hundred years with Draco, for instance, but almost a year ago he'd decided how he'd wanted to live the last year of his life and he'd done that. He'd done that and more.

In a bout of nostalgia, and needing to be reminded just how much he'd been able to live the life he wanted, he got out the Christmas film one night after Draco was asleep, and watched it in the dark, curled up under a blanket on the couch to keep warm. The laughter and the hilarity of the Christmas film were not overshadowed by his darkened mood; rather it rendered him poignantly emotional. So, when Draco slipped in and snuggled up to his side to watch with him, Harry felt grateful and clung to him happily.

He was preparing for the ending now and there was a peace in him that was fatalistic. Different than the last time he'd faced certain death; he didn't feel like he'd left things half done this time, although even the thought of leaving Draco was ripping him apart inside. Things appeared to be falling into place for an ending. It was quite odd, Harry realised, that things with Draco didn't seem to be able to get any better, all his friends were happy and doing well, his book was almost finished - even his life was preparing him for his death. He was extremely relieved that the tumor hadn't attacked his intellectual faculties, mainly his physical ones with the odd memory lapse added in for good measure.

But he was too pragmatic to think that would remain the case and he was just glad that the bulk of his book was done.

There's parts of me that resent seeing my friends just carry on with their lives as though nothing is wrong, as though this thing isn't happening to me and isn't going to kill me soon.

Then I realise that's exactly the reason why I haven't told them about it. I don't want their lives to change while I go through this.

Rejoicing in their lives is what keeps me sane and happy. I've never been as happy as my life has made me this past year. And three weeks ago at Draco's birthday - it was close to the best day of my life. One last shining moment...

Harry stopped typing and looked down at his hands where they rested on the keyboard. For some reason the left one had stopped working. All right, not for some reason; Harry knew very well the reason why it was happening and he thought he would calmly wait for feeling to come back into it just like last time on the broom a couple of weeks ago.

After a few minutes he tried to move his hand from where it rested on the desk but it wouldn't move. He tried moving the arm through moving his shoulder and it moved then, but fell uselessly off the desk and hung by his side. He stared at it uncomprehendingly for a few more minutes, expecting at any time the feeling and movement would come back.

Then he tried yelling at it but no matter how much he tried or cursed at his blasted hand, it would not work.

"Come on you stupid thing," he yelled. So maybe he wasn't as ready for the end as he'd thought. He supposed that you never really knew how you'd feel when the actual time came, no matter what you thought or planned or said or even felt.

"Not now, please," he begged, concentrating on it hard, as if he looked at it long enough he could will it to work with magic or something.

"Fuck," he yelled, standing up and kicking the table.

Maybe...maybe he could take the potion twice a day? Even he didn't believe that one. But he could check, right? Go and see the Healer and ask?

Right. A desperate last ditch effort to prolong how much time he'd have with Draco, who thankfully was at work. Dread swept over him anew at the thought of telling Draco they were over. How could he break it off? He'd not planned that part. Could he just leave? Disappear somewhere to die in peace? His thoughts were all confused and swirling around in a panic.

First things first. He'd go and see the Healer one last time and make sure that there was nothing else to be done and then he'd come home, cook Draco a nice meal and tell him that - what? Maybe he was going away for a few weeks to do some research for his book?

No. He told himself not to be so bloody ridiculous and cowardly. It had to be done right. Draco deserved that, at least.

Heart in his throat, threatening to burst through to his mouth, Harry tossed some Floo powder in the fireplace and stepped through to the Healer's Office.