I own none of these characters. They all belong to the one and only J.K. Rowling
Chapter 1- Hands
Harry and I were at dinner one evening. We chatted happily with Ron and Hermione, who were getting on well now that Ron was shot of "Lav-Lav", while eating the delicious meal prepared for us by the house elves. I was blissfully happy now that Harry had finally noticed me and did something about it. I was clearly on cloud nine.
Underneath the table, I grabbed Harry's hand and laced my finger through his. I loved how perfectly my hands fit in his, almost as if we were built to be the other's puzzle piece. Against my skin, the sensation of having his strong, callused hands enclose mine felt unreal. The calluses from years of playing quidditch, slaving for his aunt and uncle, and practicing defense weren't rough. I liked to consider them character. Harry's fingers were long and slender, the perfect seeker's hands. He squeezed my hand gently and kissed my cheek. Ron made a show of looking away, but I didn't care.