At Hermione's insistence, Hedwig had been dispatched with a letter to Ron, who presumably would be able to explain to the Professors that she and Harry had been delayed but would be arriving the following morning.
Hermione fretted over what Ron would think of their apparent abandonment of him. "What will Ron think?"
Harry privately thought that Ron was most likely ecstatic at the opportunity to share a private compartment with the delectable Fleur all the way to Hogwarts. He decided not to mention this to Hermione, though. He slid a glance at her, trying to determine if her normal worrying (when didn't Hermione worry?) was masking a deeper emotion.
Aside from the wish to preserve his friendship with her, Harry's friendship with Ron was the other big reason he had never dared to reveal his true feelings about Hermione. He remembered the Yule Ball during their fourth year when he and Ron had first noticed that Hermione was, in fact, a girl. He'd been wrapped up in his crush on Cho Chang, but he distinctly remembered that moment of realization.
Thereafter, he'd been somehow more aware of Hermione. She was still his friend, his best mate, but he found himself noticing little details about her that he had previously overlooked. The way she nibbled her lower lip when she was lost in thought, her brows slightly furrowed in concentration. The way her smile slowly stole across her normally serious features until her whole face was lit up with it. Harry gritted his teeth. The way her bloody hair always smelled like flowers.
It had been difficult watching her date. Viktor Krum had been the first in a series of boyfriends, and none of them had been good enough for her as far as Harry was concerned. Not even Ron. He had always told himself that his feelings were simply those of the protective older-brother variety. After a few disastrous tries, he gave up trying to warn her off about any of the silly jerks she insisted on going out with. He bit his tongue and nodded his head when she confided in him, which he supposed was the proper best friend, brotherly type thing to do. When the relationships ended, as they inevitably did, he refrained from saying I told you so, or from doing other inappropriate things such as somersaults. He gave her a shoulder to cry on, said something to make her laugh (god, her laugh!) and they went back to being pals.
He didn't know why it had come as such a blow when she began dating Ron in the middle of fifth year. He had known Ron's feelings for Hermione before Ron would even admit them to himself. Ron, unlike Harry, had never seen the need to practice restraint when commenting on one of Hermione's boyfriends. In fact, he felt compelled to point out as many flaws as possible ("Did you see the forehead on that one? Definitely a receding hair line. Be bald as a garden gnome by the time he's thirty."). He and Hermione had gotten into more than one shouting match over what she felt was his ridiculously overprotective behavior. Harry grinned remembering that fool from Ravenclaw who had made a remark about Hermione's Muggle parentage after she had broken up with him. Ron had had the poor bastard coughing up slugs for a week.
Harry himself had never seen the need to do anything that overt. If a bloke was stupid enough to do something hurtful to Hermione, he'd quietly take him aside and have a few words. Words which often involved a reference to his infamous scar followed by a brief summary of what he'd done to the one who'd given it to him. Any inferences the hapless git might make about what Harry would do to him if he ever disrespected Hermione again were not his responsibility. A lot of the guys Hermione dated seemed to be very high strung. After one of his little chats, many of them found maintaining a relationship with her to be too great a strain on their nerves. A shame, really, but Harry felt he was only doing his duty as friend.
Then, after years of bickering, Ron and Hermione had finally come to him one day to say that they were going to give it a try. Everyone had seen it coming, including Harry, but he still felt as his insides had been ripped out and stomped on by a mountain troll. He was still raw from the ordeal of the Tri-Wizard Tournament and Cedric Diggory's death. No matter what anyone said, Harry would carry that guilt with him for the rest of his life. That summer had been a painful blur. Only Ron and Hermione's owls had gotten him through. Being back at school had helped, but seeing Ron and Hermione together was almost more than he could bear.
He told himself that he was being petty and stupid. That he was upset because he felt left out, which was both childish and small-minded. One day, after a particularly rough Quidditch match (he often took his frustrations out on the Quidditch field and as a result Gryffindor had a record year), when he should have felt like celebrating but instead wanted to weep with frustration, he finally admitted it to himself. He wasn't angry with his friends for excluding him. He was sick with jealousy. He saw Ron and Hermione walking across the field to congratulate him, his arm slung casually about her shoulders. It made him want to snap his Firebolt in two. Ron was his best friend. And he hated him for taking what should have been his. The intensity of his feelings shocked him.
At that moment he resolved never, ever to tell them. The alternative would be to alienate the two people he loved most. And he did love them. Ron as the brother he'd never had and truest mate anyone could ever want, and Hermione as . . . well, that didn't matter.
When Ron and Hermione's relationship fizzled after a few months and the two amicably returned to being friends, Harry was both elated and disgusted with himself. You pathetic git, he thought. You don't deserve either of them.
Now he watched Hermione as she tied the scrap of parchment to Hedwig's leg and wondered if she harbored any residual feelings for Ron.