(A/N) Sorry for the appearance of Harry the Prat, folks, but this eensy-weensy ficlet called for it. This story does not fall in my regular timeline . . . it's just a speculation.
Harry wandered downstairs, yawning and wondering muzzily where Ron and Hermione had got to.
"They're off somewhere," Mrs. Weasley told him when he asked. "They finished breakfast about half an hour ago. Here, eat something first."
He ate the eggs at the table, but wrapped the toast and four of the sausages in a napkin before sneaking outside while her back was turned. On the porch, he shaded his eyes and scanned the horizon. No best friends.
They'd come out to the Burrow for a couple of days. Something was going on in London that Mrs. Weasley didn't want them part of. Harry probably would have resented it a year ago, but right now he was rather glad of the vacation. For a couple of days, he could forget about danger and death and war and Voldemort, and pretend that he was a regular just-sixteen-year-old on summer holidays, making a serious career of doing nothing.
Before he did that, though, he had to find Ron and Hermione. Doing nothing alone was nice, but doing nothing with them would ten times as fun.
He wandered around the yard for a bit, idly chewing the toast, before concluding that they weren't anywhere close to the house. He struck out into the woods surrounding the Burrow, eating the sausage as he went. They couldn't have gone too far--the protective charms only extended so far from the house. He paused, hearing a familiar scold, and grinned.
"Ron! What are you doing?"
"Hush up a moment--you'll see--"
He followed the sound of her voice and found her standing underneath a tree, squinting up into its thick, glossy leaves.
"Ron!" she said again, apparently to the upper branches. "Ron, do come down here--"
"Nope, haven't got it yet," the tree answered her. "Don't natter, Hermione."
Harry grinned wider at the familiar rhythm of a Ron-Hermione interchange.
"Ron!" Hermione shouted. She still hadn't seen Harry.
With a gigantic rustle, Ron leapt from the branches to land at her feet.
Hermione lurched backward in surprise, then crossed her arms, pretending she hadn't done any such thing. "Honestly, you could have broken your leg! What is so important?"
Ron produced a slightly crushed white flower. "That. Like it?"
"It's a magnolia. How did your mum get a magnolia to grow here? The soil's all wrong--"
He heaved a sigh. "Put the Herbology on hold, would you? I got a sodding flower for you."
Harry's brows drew together.
"Oh!" She accepted it. "It's lovely," she said demurely. "Thank you."
"Thank you? I risk life and limb and all I get is a thank you?"
She giggled.
And then she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. Not on the cheek, as she'd done before, but right on the mouth.
Something in Harry's head went clank and ground to a halt.
"That's more like it," Ron said, and put his arms around her waist, leaning down to kiss her back.
Harry stood staring at them. His world, ever so slowly, tipped over sideways.
Ron and Hermione.
Hermione and Ron.
Together.
Really, together.
He took a step back, thinking only of escape, and a twig cracked under his heel. They both jumped, and then Ron spotted him. "Oh, hell."
Hermione spun around then, and saw him. "Harry!"
There was nothing for it. He couldn't pretend now. "Hi," he said weakly.
"We thought you were still asleep," she said, just as weakly.
"Yeah, I guess you did."
"All I meant was--"
"Forgot to mention something in your letters, did you?" he said.
Hermione put her hands to her head. "Oh, Harry, it--"
"Forget it, Hermione, the jig's up," Ron said. He looked at Harry almost defiantly. "Yeah, it's true, we're together."
"Since when?"
"Since the summer started," Hermione said miserably.
"You might have mentioned it," Harry said.
The first flicker of impatience showed in her eyes. "Oh, Harry, how on earth were we going to tell you?"
"Dear Harry," he said sarcastically, "Might interest you to know I'm regularly sticking my tongue down your best mate's throat. Lovely weather. Wish you were here."
Ron's jaw jutted. "Dear Harry," he said, just as sarcastically, "Might interest you to know I've just discovered Hermione's as mad about me as I am about her. Deliriously happy, Ron."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "Dear Harry," he said, "guess what. We're never going to have time for you ever again, because we're too bloody busy with more important things! So sorry!"
Hermione slapped her hands on her hips. The magnolia fluttered unheeded to the earth. "Dear Harry," she said. "I just know you're going to be disgusting about this, so I'm not even going to bother telling you that Ron's suddenly the best thing that ever happened to me."
"Dear Harry," he shouted, spinning around and stomping away from them. "This is the end! We're not the three of us anymore, we're the two of us and you!"
"Dear Harry," Ron roared, "your head is up your arse!"
Harry stopped in front of a tree and hit it with all his might. "Ow!" He swore the air blue until the pain subsided, then fell silent, resting his forehead against the rough bark. After several minutes, he sighed.
"Dear Ron and Hermione," he said. "I knew it was coming. I've known for a long time about the two of you. Probably longer than you." He risked a glance over his shoulder. "Well. Definitely longer than Ron, anyway."
They were looking over their shoulders at him.
"I just didn't think it would be so soon," he continued. "I didn't want it to be, because it changes things, and you can't deny that. I'm--" He paused. "I will be happy for you," he said carefully. "If you're still my friends after all this yelling. I need you. Both of you. You're the only ones who know what I really am."
"A total prat," Ron muttered.
"Yeah," Harry said. "A flaming total prat. Selfish and stupid and so scared of losing the two of you to each other that I have to push you away first."
Hermione cracked first, as he'd known she would. He knew them so well that he wondered why he hadn't noticed the change before.
Maybe he hadn't wanted to.
She came to him and put her arms around him. "Dear Harry," she whispered, "everything doesn't have to change."
"Yeah, but . . . a lot of it," he whispered back.
She rested her head on his shoulder.
Ron came to them and put his hand on his other shoulder. "Dear Harry," he said roughly. "She's my girl, but you'll always be my best mate. Always."
Harry sighed. "I will be happy for you," he said. "Eventually."
"Eventually's good," Ron said. "Eventually we can work with."
Ron's hand dangled at his side, and Hermione reached for it with her free one, weaving her fingers through his. Harry watched, fascinated, as each finger settled into place, click-click-click, like a key fitting into the tumblers of a lock.
There was something so perfectly natural about it that the last of his fury died, leaving only heartache behind.
FINIS