note from author: The Rule of Three (also Three-fold Law or Law of Return) is a religious tenet held by some Wiccans and Neo-Pagans. It states that whatever energy a person puts out into the world, be it positive or negative, will be returned to that person three times. Some subscribe to a variant of this law in which return is not necessarily threefold. * A Power Trio of the "two Foils + balance" variety, is a trope which has three characters playing psychological positions based on the Freudian idea of the Id, the Ego and the Superego. * It is also a concept in Waldorf learnings (as introduced by Rudolf Steiner) that human beings learn and live in a three-fold way: head, heart and hands. It somehow seems applicable to these three characters, and I wondered how this might have been if their original creator had been a little more open-minded, or the books not merely aimed at kids… {source: part Wikipedia, part self-study}

The labourer works with his hands,
the craftsman works with his hands and his head,
the artist works with his hands, his head and his heart.
~ Francis of Assisi (1182-1226)

..o0O0o..

Head

Hermione wasn't completely dumbstruck when she figured out what was going on, at the time. Slightly shocked that her findings were true, but not astonished. The only thing that surprised her about the situation was that it had taken so long before it had happened. Because, looking back, there was a gigantic sense of inevitability to it, the way the three of them had been such a close-knit unit for so many years… She just wished the outside world was more open-minded about their set up. Their kids were fine, and their closest friends, and by now family members had gotten their head around it, and they were good. It worked for them.

The day that the penny dropped was now almost four years ago. Hugo was on the verge of joining his cousin Lily for his first year at Hogwarts, and the house was soon to become so very quiet. Hermione had been burying herself in her work, and finding most of the satisfaction she craved in her life from that. Her relationship with Ron was okay, nothing ecstatic, but then, what relationship was, after almost twenty years together? Her parents' one came close, but they had lived a life of calm and comfort, never had the highs and lows that she and Ron had shared with their best friend Harry. She had wondered, some years after the final battle and the dust had settled, if she could ever truly be happy to live the kind of pedestrian life her parents had lived, settle for mundane. Also, she had missed having Harry in their set up, they worked best together, and yes, they may have all grown up and become responsible adults with children and whatever they had in their Hogwarts years was then, in different circumstances, which no longer existed.

They enjoyed each other's company, had the odd evening or day away, even had a holiday in Greece for a week, in the previous winter, but all they did there was read, and go for long walks, and have meals together. They shared a bed, but neither she nor Ron was interested in anything physical. He hadn't been for years, had been in some kind of depression, unable to put his finger on what it was that was causing it. They had talked about it a few times, but because Ron was nowhere near figuring out what it was that was making him feel so lethargic and underwhelmed with life, the chats would end in a dead end road of accusations and sadness, so they stopped. She had assumed that he was missing a sense of excitement, something that sparked him, more than the fact he was a dad or a son, or a mate, to use his brains in the way they had during their days in Hogwarts, however knackered and fed up he had been for large chunks of it, and had prayed for calmness and boredom. And in a way she had been right.

He had been away for a week, with Hugo and Rose, camping near a lake in Wales, with Harry, who had taken Albus and Lily, and when he had come back his eyes had been alive, like they hadn't been for so long. She had noticed how different he had seemed, distant in some ways, but also delightfully happy. Part of her hoped it was only the thrill of the break, having had the kids to be daft and silly with the kids, the campfire cooking and fishing on the lake. But an overheard chat on the Floo made her revise her ideas on this.

They were going to have to seriously rethink their relationship…

..o0O0o..

Heart

He loved his wife.

There were no two ways about this. He loved Hermione with all his heart, and the last thing he ever wanted to do was to hurt her in any kind of way. But that was exactly where his feelings were taking him, and it was also exactly why he was happy to ignore his feelings as much as he could. But he also had to admit that he hadn't felt so elated since he saw Voldemort keel over and die.

He almost cancelled the camping trip. If it hadn't been for the kids having known about it, he would've in a flash, but Hugo was leaping up and down every time he heard Rose talk about it, and part of him was happy to be away from his life, his normal life. And to spend extra time with the kids. And Harry…

Asking For Trouble was the best name for their camping trip, he knew. And when they had arrived at the spot where he and Harry spelled the tent in its place, with the sleeping quarters in three of the four corners of it, one for the kids to share (as they had decided beforehand amongst the four of them) and one each for the dads, they started a strange kind of dance around each other.

"I'll put you in charge of cooking," Harry had said, as he transfigured a cooker out of the box that the tent had sat in. He looked very chuffed with his handiwork. Ron smiled at his friend and nodded his confirmation.

"Happy to," Ron said, watching Hugo and Rose run towards the lake, where Lily and Albus had already started enlarging the boat.

That first evening was odd. The kids had stayed up for hours, playing games and chatting away around the fire, and Ron sat across from Harry, observing him unobtrusively. His oldest friend, the kid on the train he befriended, who knew nothing about the world he had grown up in, and who shared his first ever chocolate frogs with him. Four months ago they had shared their first kiss. He was feeling a mixture of thrills and terror at the possible places it might lead them.

It hadn't come as a surprise, or more a surprise that he wasn't barking up the wrong tree. They had gone out for a few drinks with George and Neville and Lee and a few others, to celebrate his thirty seventh birthday in the Leaky Cauldron, having hired some rooms upstairs there (thanks to Nev they cost next to nothing) so that they could drink and not worry about going home on the Knight Bus (he had nightmares of throwing up far too often on it in the past), and after Lee had finally given up on the Karaoke machine, and George dragged him up the stairs to their respective rooms, Neville had joined Hannah up in their quarters, and the others had left for home, he and Harry were left sitting at a table in a corner. They hadn't drunk that much, Ron came to think of it. He was tipsy, but pretty aware of the fact that he had been giving in to his desire to be close to Harry, touch him and lean in to him. As they had been doing with each other more and more. Harry had broken up with his sister a few years before, for reasons he could only guess at, and they spent a lot more time in each other's company than they had been for ages. Not since their Hogwarts years.

It had been looks, and those touches, subtle but causing fireworks to go off inside Ron. He loved Harry, in lots of ways. He was his oldest, best, dearest, closest friend, beside Hermione, and together the three of them had dealt with things nobody should have ever had to deal with. But they had, and only the three of them understood each other, without words. Only, the love he was feeling for Harry was starting to resemble the love he felt for Hermione more and more as time went on. And he sensed that this was a mutual thing.

Maybe it always had been, in some way. Ron was sure he had had similar feelings for Harry when he was seventeen, when they were on their Horcrux hunt together, and their bond became so bloody tight. Between all three of them. He felt love for Harry, he wanted to protect him, comfort him, reassure him, hug him… He wanted to show him affection, make him see that he was always there for him. His Harry…

And now he finally could. Sitting in the pub that they had come to for Merlin knew how long, he had wanted to comfort Harry, who was talking about his failed marriage, the fact he couldn't give a fig about his job anymore, and how alone he sometimes felt, and Ron moved a hand up to his forehead, trace his fingers across the scar, gently pushed some strands of the dark locks away from his eyes, noticed how Harry was staring at him, not in anger or disgust, but wonderment. Those green eyes, the ones that Ron loved looking into, to try and figure out the world behind them. Then they closed, and he felt his hand being leaned into carefully, and he knew that Harry wanted to feel another level of intimacy with his dearest friend. So he shifted in his seat, and moved forward, insecure about it suddenly - what if he had read him wrong? But Harry moved forward as well, and before he could deal with his thoughts, he felt lips on his, and he was finally kissing him.

It had felt strange, kissing Harry. But incredible as well. A wish he had had since he was in year 5 finally fulfilled...

The kids had finally gone to bed and Harry had indicated that they should go for a short walk. He cast a few wards of protections on the tent in case they lost sight of it, just to be on the safe side. For a bit they wandered silently, neither wanting to break the quiet that was in their midst, worried about what might come next.

"Your cooking was amazing," Harry had started, smiling.

"Thanks. I enjoyed it, and the kids seemed to like it." he thought back to seeing his two and Harry's youngest two tucking into the grub he had created, with the fish they had caught in the lake earlier, and the vegetables they had bought in the farmshop down the road.

"Hermione is a lucky woman…" he smiled again. This time he looked at him, insisting on meeting his eyes.

Ron felt himself go red, knowing where he was probably going to steer this conversation. He murmured something that implied his doubts and looked ahead of him. Harry had touched his hand, and Ron stopped in his tracks.

"Have you told her yet?" He carried on, his voice not as confident as earlier. Ron shook his head.

"I can't…"

"She has to know, Ron. We owe her that much…"

"Yeah… But what if this is just a stupid midlife fuck up?" He tried to steer his conscience away from knowing that he already knew a long time ago. That his feelings for Harry were as likely to fade into nothing as Wheezes was likely to go bankrupt.

"You know as well as I do that that isn't true…" Harry moved to stand in front of him, closing the gap between them. This time he moved a hand up to Ron's face, touching it gently, sliding it into his hair, looking into his eyes, then down to his mouth. The hunger he felt months ago was there again, and carefully he moved to let his lips touch Harry's, who received them happily.

..o0O0o..

Hands

Maybe it had always been Ron…

Thinking about it (which he had done so very bloody often) it probably was. And they worked best as a threesome. Not in the way the Prophet had hailed them, in the most kinky, awful way Rita Skeeter's successor had come up with in her filthy mind, but as their years in Hogwarts had honed them to perfection. The challenges thrown at them were best solved when they worked together. Hermione's brain, Ron's immense ability to feel, and Harry's propensity to dive in head first - not separately, but together.

He had felt incredibly lost when Ron and Hermione had become an item. Something that was almost predicted - the lot of them had become a walking cliche, all childhood sweethearts forming compact little families. How neat… His desires to be with guys neatly suppressed as well, cos that was never going to fit the perfect picture that the wizarding world was looking for. If only they knew the real reason for his despair when Cedric Diggory died, or how much he fancied Draco Malfoy at one point, or how often he had used a charm to change his appearance so he could have meaningless encounters in gay bars, or just how much he would miss Ron at any given moment. Ginny had come the closest thing he had to being with him. The Real Thing he had longed for more than he had dared to admit. Ginny was amazing. Clever, funny, strong, kind, there for him when he needed it. A wonderful mother to their three kids, a great lover, and the one to piece him together whenever he had fallen apart. But not Ron...

That night in the tent in Wales, with the kids asleep in the compartment on the other end (although the wobbling lights of their wands revealing some kind of activity), he discovered just how strong his desires for his former wife's brother really were. The kiss they had shared in the Leaky Cauldron was sensational - the many times he had tried to imagine kissing Ron faded into nothing compared to the real thing - but obviously too much for his friend. He had broken it off abruptly, mumbled something unintelligible and ran up the stairs to his room, leaving Harry sitting on his side of the velvet bench in shock, and assumed it was never going beyond that. But there they were, their lips swollen from the intense kiss they had shared by the water, breathing faster from the speed with which they went inside as well as their excitement at what might come. He had been careful, assuming that Ron might be spooked by Harry's experience, knowing that his friend had hardly had feelings for any man other than Harry, so he allowed Ron to make the first moves, allowing for his fears and apprehension to fade in his own time.

It had been incredible to feel Ron's body against his, to feel his hands undressing him, remove his shirt, undo his belt, feel his strong yet tender hands slide down his back and directing his underwear onto the floor. He then allowed for Harry to do the same, and then have him touch him all over, going from his face, covered in beautiful freckles, through his hair, his soft, wild, curly ginger locks that had made his heart beat faster for as long as he remembered, having his thumb run softly over the skin under his eyes, then onto his mouth, and down over his chest. Revelling in the sensation that he was finally allowed to touch him, he tried to drink in all these feelings, and pressed a kiss against the skin where his hands now were. He heard Ron breath deeply, let out a soft groan, and as he looked up he saw closed eyes, a head tilted back slightly, a mouth opened in ecstatic expectation, an adams apple protruding, and Harry moved his mouth there, licked the skin under his touch and was startled by a loud groan, and the way arms enveloped him suddenly, and Ron's mouth found his again and they very fast went from careful touches to lying down on the bed that Harry had conjured earlier that day, and exploring their love for each other there.

Ron never slept in his own quarters that week, and how the kids didn't cotton on to the way they were with each other he had no idea. They'd exchange loving looks, kiss when the kids were away swimming, hold hands when they walked behind them going up to the farm shop, and slept together every night. One time Al had looked at him strangely, just after they had walked into the shop and Ron was still glued to Harry's side, fingers entwined, but he hadn't asked what they were doing, so he let it go.

A Powerful Trio

Head & Heart & Hands

July, at the house in Cornwall

"Mum! Where have you put the tennis rackets?" Rose yelled from across the garden, towards where her parents and Harry sat in the shade. Roxanne was making the large net hover from the shed to the court, telling Hugo to open the gate so she could place it near the post where it was to be attached, and Albus was challenging Scorpius Malfoy to a game of chess in between all that, with Harvey the dog lying by his feet. Lily sat under the tree by the pond, reading a very chunky book. James had left that morning to spend time with his girlfriend, and would return the next day.

"I put them on the shelf in the pantry, next to the dog biscuits, sorry Rose!" Harry yelled back, turning around on the bench where he was sitting next to Ron. Hermione looked over to where her daughter was standing, with her hands shielded over her eyes to keep the sun out.

"Can you fetch the drinks I put in the fridge for you all as well?" she yelled in her daughter's direction. "There's some cakes in the cupboard if you're hungry!"

"Can't Hugo get them? I'll have my hands full!"

"With two rackets?!" Hermione spoke less loudly, more for Harry and Ron's benefit than Rose. "Anyway, as I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted, so Reginald Freimann was telling Kingsley where to shove his promotion, and threw the letter on his desk, only to ask him for a payrise hours later!"

"Freimann? The guy who helped the Goyles secure that weird artefact a few years ago?" Harry looked surprised. "How did he hang on to his job, I still wonder?"

"The same way those slimy gits always hang on to their positions…" Ron chipped in, taking a sip from his lemon and mint cordial. "I thought you lot had put a stop to all that."

"Most of them, but the Goyles managed to stay out of trouble for so long that they have been out of the loop, I guess. And Freimann just helps out whoever pays him enough..." Hermione sat back in her lounge chair, watching the children do all their various activities. She was pleased with what she saw. All the kids seemed to have found their place in the big house, which they had bought last summer. For a while they had all ferried across the south of England during the holidays, with Harry's kids staying with him for a bit, then with Ginny, but wanting to spend time with Hugo and Rose as well, Harry and Ron having to figure out who stayed where, so when Hermione knew of the house in Cornwall becoming available, she put it forward to the guys, who had mixed thoughts about it.

"What, us all living together?" Ron had asked. "Harry and myself and you, all under the same roof?"

"Yeah, why not," Hermoine had mooted. "It would make life a lot easier…"

Harry had nodded, pensively. "Would you feel alright with us two sharing a bedroom, do you think? In the same house…"

Hermione smiled, appreciating Harry's concern for her feelings. "Yeah, I would. I never had an issue with you two… You should know that by now…" She grinned. "And besides, you guys are fine whenever I bring Thomas over, don't you?"

"Yeah, we do, but it's different when your ex is sleeping in the same bed as your best mate in the same house… Surely…" Harry glanced from Hermione to Ron, who was being very quiet, on the sofa next to him.

Ron had all but moved in with Harry, in the years since they finally figured out how they felt about each other, and once they finally talked to Hermione about it, and she had seemed fine with it, sometimes even suggesting they all lived in the same house properly. Their relationship, the one between the three of them, had always been special, and in one of their chats all three shared how much they had missed each other. So their respective houses were sold, and the house in Cornwall (a spacious, light 1930's building with six bedrooms and two reception rooms, situated very close to the coast) became theirs. The children chose and shared a few of the rooms (Rose and Lily insisted on bunking together, and Hugo had wanted to with Albus, who was a bit more reluctant, so they agreed on a kind of on-off construction), Hermione had the one with a balcony looking out over the ocean, and Ron picked one looking out over the hills behind the house for him and Harry, giving them plenty of privacy as well as a small extra room for Harry to do some of his work if it was needed. James claimed part of the attic, but he wasn't around that often anymore, and officially lived with his mother anyway.

"We'll make it work, Harry. I don't want to carry on with how we lived in the last twenty years. I miss you too much, and I'd miss Ron too much as well. And you would miss me…" Hermione had looked from Harry to Ron, and back again, smiling.

A lone seagull shrieked as it flew over the large garden, where two young women played tennis, two young men played chess and three adults were watching them in quiet contentment.

..o0O0o..