Harry's shocky, too-cold unconsciousness had given way to a normal sort of sleep, and he fluttered awake in time to see the two of them plastered against each other. "Right, so you want me to leave?" he asked, voice coming out a bit wobbly and croaking, but recognizably his.
Harry swung his legs to the side, sitting up and rubbing absently at his neck. His throat ached from being choked and his head felt a bit like a herd of hippogryffs had tromped over it. But he felt lighter than he had in weeks, like he could think clearly and not feel like he wanted to punch anyone. He gave Ron a sheepish sort of grin. "Good timing," he told the redhead.
He remembered, in a slightly fuzzy way, what Ron had seen before, when the locket opened. "Hermione and me are just friends. She's like my sister," he blurted gracelessly.