II.

"I know, mate," said Ron, who looked as though he'd just taken a Bludger to the head, "so it's now or never, isn't it?" His clear blue eyes suddenly filled with resolution and, maybe, desire; but as both Harrys tried to interpret the look, white mist swirled around them all and the memory dissolved.

Where am I now?

A Hogwarts corridor swam into focus around him. He was at another point during the Battle, judging from the noise and smoke drifting up the corridor. Harry managed not to fall over again as a classroom door slammed open and a stampeding herd of desks emerged, driven by a beautifully disheveled and war-hungry Professor McGonagall. He gazed fondly after her as they thundered away.

This moment of pleasant nostalgia was ruined by the sight of Ron and Hermione (thankfully not touching) appearing through the cloud of dust raised by the desks. Harry frowned, emotions charging through him. He loved Hermione like a sister, of course he loved her, but right now he wanted desperately to get between her and Ron, push her away from him, turn and wrap his arms around Ron and-

Harry ran both hands through his hair, making no visible difference.

I want to do what?

-kiss him. Kiss him 'til he moans.

Oh, Merlin, I really do.

Harry stared at Ron as he approached, not really seeing anything else. Just Ron, not as a collection of facts and facets, memories and quirks, trials and triumphs, but as a quietly astonishing whole that had been Harry's all along without him really knowing it. Under his nose for the taking (Harry inadvertently quivered) and he'd never realized.

He realized now, alright- a thousand little moments were busy clicking together in his head and heart to finally bring him the overwhelming message that actually, Ron was what Harry wanted most; but in all the fuss of saving Wizardkind and the ensuing clean-up, the memo had been delayed. He watched Ron saying something to Hermione and wanted to touch Ron's mouth, unconsciously raising his fingers to his own lips.

But Hermione kissed him first.

Fuck.

They were close enough now for him to hear their conversation. Hermione had her Lecturing Voice on.

"I'm just saying, are you absolutely sure you can do it? If it's not identical to how Harry did it, we're wasting time-"

"Look, my mouth is just the same as Harry's, so it can do the same thing, right? It just might take a couple of tries before I can do it exactly like he did, that's all." Ron hefted the broomstick under his arm and frowned.

What are they talking about? Harry thought as they stopped in front of a door. And given what was in the last memory, do I really want to know? He moved closer and followed them with trepidation into Moaning Myrtle's toilets.

Panic flooded him as he saw Ron kneel in front of Hermione, followed immediately by relief as Ron began experimentally hissing at the engraved snake on the tap which opened the Chamber of Secrets. Hermione stood watching, and Harry knew it was the stance she took when barely managing not to tap her toes impatiently. Unfortunately, because he knew this, it was mostly just as irritating.

Ron closed his eyes in concentration (he knows too, thought Harry) and wet his lips softly. Harry suppressed the strong urge to go and stand in front of his kneeling friend. Ron hissed again, and a bright white light bathed his face as the tap glowed and began to spin. Hermione gasped and the sink groaned as it slowly twisted, then sank out of sight to leave the Chamber entrance gaping in front of them.

Harry watched as the two of them leaned into the darkness, then drew sharply back and pulled faces at each other. He was relieved that smells didn't seem to feature in Pensieve memories as Hermione turned faintly green and Ron muttered, "I think it's safe to say it's still down there."

Comprehension dawned on Harry as he remembered they'd been carrying basilisk fangs in the Room of Requirement. So this memory was from before the previous one? Comprehension fled again, to be replaced by the beginnings of a headache. He was almost completely sober now and not enjoying it in the least. Hermione's rapturous expression as she gazed at Ron, however, crushed any thought of pulling his head out of the Pensieve and sticking it in, say, a vat of firewhisky. Or Ron's pants.

"That was amazing, Ron!" she gushed as she waved her wand at his nose, then her own. Ron took a deep breath in relief, nodded his thanks, and peered into the tunnel again.

"No, really, it was, really amazing!" Hermione had gone down on her knees next to Ron and Harry moved reluctantly closer to see her face. She looked as though she was truly seeing Ron for the first time, and something in her expression reminded him of Ginny at certain moments. I am watching Hermione realize how brilliant Ron is, Harry thought glumly. Of course she would get it long before I did. She is the brains of the three of us, after all.

He stood, rooted to the spot with a kind of numbing, dull misery, while Ron seemed to take in what Hermione had said and turned one of his rare smiles on her. Ron grinned often and easily but he had a smile that Harry knew appeared seldom; only when Ron felt a deep, true joy in something would it spread slowly and gloriously across his face. This time it was gone quickly (and Harry found himself, momentarily, spitefully glad) as Ron determinedly said, "Best get it done, then. Lumos," and the two of them slid down the pipe.

Harry removed his glasses and rubbed one hand over his face, sighing deeply. He was just about to indulge in a good bout of self-pity and internal ranting when he heard the bathroom door behind him open slowly a little, pause, and then close softly again as someone else slipped into the room. Merlin's sweaty pants, thought Harry as he replaced his glasses, I can't even get privacy when I'm invisible in someone else's memory.

Suddenly the person darted past him and crouched to look into the Chamber entrance.

Harry gasped, as all thoughts of moping were driven from him by pure astonishment.

It was Ron.