1.

Ron appears at Harry's door with a bag in his hand and a desolate look on his face. "It's over," he says, sinking into a chair and running his hands through his hair.

Harry looks at him, tired eyes and long limbs and tousled red hair, and feels – not sorry. Though he reckons he should be.

During the next couple of weeks, they Apparate to work together, eat together, walk home together after pints at the Leaky Cauldron. It feels natural.

When Harry jokingly suggests they ought to sleep together as well, Ron's response is not what he expected.


2.

He feels bad about Hermione, sending her owl after owl, getting no reply. Harry can only imagine what she's thinking. But you are wrong, he tells her in his mind. I love you, too. I need you, too.

"She'll get over it," Ron says, but his voice is without conviction.

It gets worse, not better. The thought of Hermione lingers like a shadow over them, between them. The sex gets more awkward with time, not less; they start sniping at each other, stop meeting each other's gazes.

Then Harry comes home to an empty flat, and it's almost a relief.


3.

Without Ron, he can start seeing Hermione again. Without Ron, he can start dating her. Without Ron, he can set up house with her and live with her and be grown-up and respectable with her.

Without Ron, there is always something missing.

"I talked to Ginny," Hermione says one night. She hesitates for a second. "She said Ron is travelling. To 'find himself'."

Harry manages not to blurt out with his first thought: that Ron shouldn't be travelling, that Ron belongs here, with them. He manages not to say it, but he thinks it's still there, reflected in Hermione's eyes.


4.

When Ron returns, something clicks into place in Harry's heart.

"I know what I want," Ron says, looking at them both.

He's right, of course. It should be the three of them. It's the natural order of things, where they are concerned.

"Do I have to decide for us all?" Hermione asks. She sounds half-disbelieving, half-apprehensive, as if she's been entrusted with some prestigious but nerve-wracking task, the outcome of which will determine their fate and happiness ever after. Maybe it will. 

"You can just say no, or yes," Ron says; and Harry adds, "You were always the clever one."


5.

Ron moves in and life continues, but differently, more like life should be. They don't have a dormitory or a common room, not even a talking portrait, but the atmosphere changes and turns into something Harry recognises: more often than not, it's like being back at Hogwarts.

Like home, Harry thinks, watching Ron move about the kitchen. Ron has changed a bit, it's true, but not for the worse. They're all different now that they're older. Their house often feels like Hogwarts but it's still different, and perhaps that's not such a bad thing, after all. He thinks Hermione agrees.


6.

Harry doesn't know yet what Hermione will say. Ron's arrival has stirred something in her, but she's ever the rational one, considering outcomes and consequences.

Meanwhile, he steals glances at Ron, when he thinks nobody notices. He thinks of Ron and Hermione together, of his old feelings of jealousy. He thinks of himself with Ron, and then with Hermione, and then he tries combining it all together and his mind turns dizzy with the horrible and wonderful possibilities of it.

At night, when he and Hermione lie in bed, her head on his shoulder, his other arm feels dreadfully empty.


7.

When it happens, it's mostly by accident.

He hadn't planned on kissing Ron in the kitchen, not before they got it all sorted. He certainly hadn't planned on Hermione's walking in on them.

But perhaps it's for the best, Harry thinks, holding onto Ron firmly as she stares at them, mouth open, Ron's face beet-red. Now the issue has to be resolved.

"I think we need to talk," Hermione says at length, feebly, looking from him to Ron. Harry isn't sure, but it strikes him that the flush on her cheeks doesn't only have to do with mortification or embarrassment.


8.

Hermione talks about leaving, and Harry feels like this has all happened before. It turned out wrong, then. He has to stop it.

"I want you both, Hermione," he insists. "The three of us, together."

She must have given it enough thought by now that she understands. If there's anything holding her back – holding them back – it's fear. Fear of not being able to make it work.

But the three of them have been through so much together. And they know each other better than anyone.

"We have to," Harry says. "Otherwise there will always be someone missing."


9.

Kissing Hermione, kissing Ron, watching the two of them kiss, kissing them again – it should feel weird. It's not. It's a bit confusing, with more mouths than usual to keep track of, but it's still the most natural thing in the world.

They somehow manoeuvre into the bedroom without knocking anyone over. It's not clear who undresses whom and it doesn't matter, because everyone gets undressed. Once in bed, there's a surplus of warmth and limbs and skin; then Harry's on his back, with Ron and Hermione on each side of him, and it's just as it should be.


10.

"Well," says Hermione with a laugh. "That was confusing."

One of her legs are thrown over Harry's hips, her head resting on his chest. Ron is running a hand down her thigh, up and down; his head is buried in Harry's neck. It's a small bed for three grown people, yet it somehow doesn't feel crowded.

"We need practice," Ron declares, grinning against Harry's shoulder. "Lots of it."

Harry's last sleepy thought is whether he'd have done better in Potions if he'd known it before: some ingredients won't work without each other. Leave one out, and the magic is gone.