For my dearest, HazzaP, on your birthday. Thank you for being my friend, confidant, sounding board, fellow horse riding enthusiast. You are a joy to have in my life. You gave me hand gifs as prompts, and I did my best to give you fluff (seeing I keep making you cry with my angst) xx
That first time, it was just a brush, really.
The back of his hand, against hers.
She knew, probably in greater detail than she should, that the palm of James’ hand was covered in calluses, his left more than his right, preferencing his throwing arm. But the back of his hand, that was silky smooth.
It sent sparks through her, a sharp burst of heat across every millimetre where they connected. That tingle, that fire, it travelled like a bolt of lightning, a one way ticket, directly into her chest.
It made her stand taller, straightening her spine as they remained shoulder to shoulder, a united front, an imposing, unlikely yet unrelenting force. Something she’d never thought possible, yet it had happened so organically, so quickly, Lily had never bothered to question the improbability. She had just accepted it.
Much like she accepted the confidence, the comfort, the reassurance his touch gave her now. It made it all the easier to face the Slytherins, seventh years like themselves, who thought along with being Merlin’s gift to the wizarding world, also took the position that the rules didn’t apply to them. It gave her the courage to hold her chin high, her wand higher, and stick to the strength of her convictions.
It was only a small thing, that gentle yet purposeful touch.
