It was during their sixth year that Harry finally noticed Hermione. Really noticed her.
Hermione, his best friend.
Hermione correcting his essay in the early hours of the morning. A look of disapproval on her face. Hermione knowing the answer to every question. Hermione saving his life countless times because of the reading she did. Hermione being just Hermione.
It was strange. This sudden realization. He couldn't point out when he started seeing their friendship as something more. Something more than being just best friends.
They were at the breakfast table in the Great Hall and she laughed at something Ron said and then chided him quietly.
'Ron!'
She looked up and grinned at Harry and then rolled her eyes at him, referring to the joke. Harry just stared. She looked so beautiful that morning. Her brown eyes alight with mirth and her wide smile showing her perfect set of teeth. She looked fresh and radiant.
'Harry? Are you alright?', she asked, her brows furrowed with concern. Ron looked up at him too.
Harry, just coming out of his trance, sputtered and looked down at his half-eaten toast.
'Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just wondering whether I brought all the books for today's lessons', he lied. Hermione looked at him suspiciously for a moment more before returning to her reading of the Daily Prophet.
Harry mentally scolded himself for gawking at his best friend and resumed eating his toast. After finishing their breakfast, the three of them headed down to the dungeons for potions. Harry was painfully aware of Hermione walking beside him, and caught for the umpteenth time after their first lesson with Slughorn, a whiff of the scent same as Amortentia. Vanilla, roses and honey. A scent he had always related with Hermione, but only now realised it fully.
He was attracted to his best friend.
He fancied Hermione.
And he did not know what to do.