Chapter Text
It had been an honest mistake. It really was – whatever her intentions had been, they hadn’t included shamelessly ogling her best friend of six years. And in the prefects’ bathroom, no less!
Hermione’s face was still hot from remembering the moment. It was permanently etched in her mind, a sight she didn’t think she would ever forget as long as she lived.
Since it was the weekend, she took a rare break from her studies and prepared for a trip to the prefects’ bathroom. She needed some space away from Gryffindor House and her friends; a soothing bath seemed to be the best option where she could relax and be on her own for a while.
With a book, a towel, and her favorite soap (pomegranate scented), she’d made her way to the room…only to be abruptly greeted with the sight of a nearly naked Harry Potter (who apparently had the same bright idea as her).
Hermione had stood there, frozen like a statue, while her best friend enjoyed his bath/spa experience. His head was tilted back, his lovely green eyes closed. The bubbly water concealed the lower half of his body. Yet she could see the look of serene rapture he wore, which made her feel both happy and annoyed.
She tried not to let her eyes linger on how much Harry had changed physically. He wasn’t the small, starved, awkward and wide-eyed boy she’d met on the train; after a mix of Hogwarts meals and Mrs. Weasley’s cooking, along with Quidditch and being outside most of the time, he was taller, stronger and more graceful in his movements. Harry had grown into his skin.
And everyone was finally noticing. (“More fanciable than ever,” indeed.)
As soon as she was about to leave, Harry opened his eyes. They widened upon seeing her. “Hermione! What are you doing here?” His voice, now deeper, was not helping her train of thought.
“I’m sorry!” She squeaked. “I believed the room was free…I’ll go now. You can stay.” She didn’t look him in the eye, afraid he would see what her oh so helpful brain was imagining.
Then she bolted, leaving a very baffled Harry Potter behind.
When Hermione returned to the girls’ dormitory, she threw her bath essentials on the bed and buried her face in her pillow.
He’s not a piece of meat. This is Harry, who hates being the center of attention and made into a sex object. You remember that, Granger.
The mental imagery of her stupidly attractive (and shirtless!) best friend remained, no matter how hard Hermione tried to banish it away. She couldn’t fall for him (she shouldn’t).
When they saw each other later that day, Harry smiled shyly at her. And Hermione’s blush stayed for a long time.