Harry remembered everything about his two best friends.

It was natural, wasn't it? He spent most of his time with them, after all.
Ron told him about his family all of the time, often repeating funny little anecdotes that made Harry laugh. It wasn't that odd that Harry knew a thing or two about Ron.
Hermione? Well, Harry could recite most of her lectures by heart. It was one of her annoying, yet loveable quirks that never failed to make him roll his eyes and suppress a grin.

Was it okay?
Was it okay, that though he remembered the first time he'd seen Hermione and Ron hold hands (albeit accidentally), he couldn't remember what colour Cho's eyes were?

Harry knew too much about his two best friends.

He noticed that Hermione always played with her hair before an exam, and he could recognise that bushy head in a crowd of thousands. He knew that when Ron was younger, his father had taken him to see a muggle movie, whilst doing some muggle culture research. It was before Ron developed arachnophobia, and to present day Ron would still have Spiderman dreams.
Harry knew that Ron still called Hermione 'MJ' when he sleeptalked.

Was that normal?
For one boy to know so much about his two best friends?
Of course it was, they were practically his only family.

Family.

He didn't quite think of them as that anymore.

Harry remembered the first time he'd seen Ron kissing Hermione. He remembered the roaring flames of jealousy in the pit of his stomach, and the way his heart had beat faster and quicker and expanded and practically exploded from the feelings rushing at him.
And Oh God YES, for a while Harry couldn't look either of them in the eye, because every time he did he saw the images that had haunted him in the shared bathroom, of a redhead and a brunette in his shower… doing things with a wand he hadn't even thought possible.

Harry still remembered the ache, the loneliness at Bill and Fleur's wedding, as he watched Hermione and Ron kiss and fondle and grope and disappear to Merlin knows where.
Hah.
Actually, Harry knew where.
He followed them, watching and touching and dreaming and breaking his own heart as he took in every curve of Hermione's body, and every hard line of Ron's.

He never saw Ron's smirk, or Hermione's whispered goodbye as he left them, feeling angry at himself and just so, so unwanted.

Harry's best friends were everything to him.

Sitting in a cold, dark tent the night before the final battle, Harry Potter had a million different emotions racing through his head. He'd stepped outside, into the eerie silence of the forest where the light army were hidden.
He felt like he betrayed them that night.

Harry heard a twig snap, and pulled his wand out to ward off his attacker.

Merlin, Potter, pulling out your wand at strangers?
A smirk.
What would Weasley say?

The moonlight hitting Draco Malfoy's pale hair showed Harry the answer to all of his problems.
And soon his former enemy was against a tree, moaning, tasting, screwing The Boy Who Lived. The emotions hit Harry again.

Fear. Deceit. DESIRE. Regret. Disgust. WANT. Lust. Hate. LOVE.

And Harry pulled away, finally getting it.
Malfoy sneered, without the usual malice. He too had passion in his eyes.

Finally figured it out, Potter?
You were never all that bright.

And as his old enemy walked away, Harry Potter smiled to himself.
Because Draco Malfoy may have been the best shag of his life, but he had something bloody brilliant waiting back in his tent.
Ready and waiting to go to war.

…

Harry always thought it was odd that Hermione and Ron hadn't gotten engaged once Ron had recovered from the battle.

Hermione and Ron thought it odd that til the day he died, Harry visited the grave of Draco Malfoy.
Even if Malfoy died in the final battle, Harry had always hated him.
Right?

There was a lot Ron didn't know about Harry.
It was one of many things, really.
Harry remembered the day he told Hermione about his sexual encounter with the Slytherin King.

Ron had been with his older brother Charlie, sorting through the carnage that the dragons had done to the left walls of the Hogwarts castle.
The trio had gone there after the war, to rebuild the place where they had found each other.
Hermione's face was white than ever before.
Harry remembered the flicker of hurt, the flicker of disapproval, the tiny pang of guilt.

He wasn't prepared for Hermione to throw herself at him, lips smoothing and kissing and murmuring words that Harry was very sure wouldn't be in Hogwarts: A History.
He wasn't prepared for her hurt voice afterwards.

You could have had us, Harry.

…
That one sentence flew through Harry's dreams a million times in the months after the reopening of the school.

As headmistress, Hermione hardly got to spend any time with Harry or Ron. Those words were only ones she said to him in the months around the new start.
Merlin, only 50 or so kids, a bunch of them homeless from the War, and there was so much to do.

So much that Harry was exhausted….

But not too exhausted to revisit his old dorm.

By then, Hermione had managed to find the time to tell Ron about 'the Draco incident'. She considered it betrayal. Ron called it infidelity.
Neither of them were prepared to tell Harry exactly why though.

And that, my friends, is how Harry Potter ended up in the showers again, with the same unresolved feelings and the same daydreams.
It was during class time, all of the students were gone. His old seventh year quarters were pretty much deserted anyway, thanks to the tiny number of pupils.
He never expected anyone to walk in on him.

And why?

Oh Merlin, yes, Oh God, Hermione.
Mmm, yes, there…
Bloody hell, Oh… Oh! RON…

What a time for said best friend to discover him.

Harry was so caught up in his fantasy that he didn't feel Ron slip into the shower behind him.

FUCK. Ron… ye- Ohhh…
DAMN.

He finally realised that it wasn't some super-vivid wet dream as Ron's shouts drowned out his own.
Both boys were left standing underneath the running water, panting.

That's the friendship down the drain then mate?

Years later, Harry couldn't have begun to explain.

But he remembered everything, you see.

It was natural, wasn't it? He spent most of his time with them, after all, sharing their bed, sharing their hearts.
Ron told him about his family all of the time, often repeating funny little anecdotes that made Harry laugh. Harry felt like part of the family, even if it was in a weird, related-by-marriage kind of way. Not to mention that Ginny wouldn't speak to him.
Hermione? Well, Harry could recite most of her lectures by heart. It was one of her annoying, yet loveable quirks that never failed to make him roll his eyes and suppress a grin… and grab her face and kiss it hard.

Was it okay?

After the war everything fell apart. Nothing was 'okay'.
But the strong are all that survives in times like those. And they say triangles are the strongest structures in the world.

HermioneHarryRon.
RonHermioneHarry
HarryRonHermione.
Three. One.

Because.
It's love, you see.

And Harry's best friends were everything to him. Best friends, and more.
He loved them from the beginning of the story to the final page.

Harry?
He remembered everything.

Oh God, Yes.