"Here he was, in the middle of what would likely be the last battle of the Second Wizarding War, surrounded by the only weapons he could think of strong enough to kill the remaining pieces of Voldemort's soul, rowing with Hermione. At least there was one constant in life, he reckoned." In the chamber, DH.

Missing moments from Deathly Hallows. R/Hr and trio friendship. Ch 8: Ron didn't even have a moment to speak—Harry advanced on the table, swiped the mug of tea across the room, and grabbed Ron by the collar of his jumper. "Is there something wrong with you?"

The three of them were standing there, like a beautiful trifecta, and then memories were tumbling in relentlessly. He let out a sharp cry and pressed his forehead into his hands. What the hell? The fire. His unlikely escape. The dental records. Wilson's death, the incessant sobbing, the loss of direction. And then… what? He had appeared at a log cabin. (post-finale)

James Wilson could count on one hand the times he'd seen Gregory House throw his head back and laugh with a sort of reckless abandon usually only seen in prepubescent teenagers. He remembered each date, each memory as if it were the flashbulb of a camera; remembered with obnoxious clarity the shock he felt when his best friend, of all people, broke into hysterics.

Mid-Season 5. "Then it hit him, almost as violently as the garbage truck had struck the bus. The missing Vicodin. The alcohol in Wilson's voice. The pain. The agony. The phone call. House launched himself out of his chair, nearly falling to the ground in his urgency. He needed to go. He needed to go, and he needed to go as quickly as possible."