Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the characters. Sadly, I don't.

Author's note: I'm not very good with grammar; but I'll try real hard to make it as fluent and perfect as possible.

Also, this is set during HBP so if you haven't read the book, don't read this. Thank you.

Hands

There's something I can't quite explain,
I'm so in love with you.
You'll never take that away.

- Blue October

He pushed one of the many wild jet black hairs out of his eyesight, to see her better or so he said. She smiled at him as he grabbed her hand and squeezed it. They're rough, she thought as they strolled along the lake. She liked it. They were different from the other guys she had been with. For example, Dean's were soft perhaps due to the fact he did not ride a broomstick often as Harry. Maybe that's the reason why Harry's hands were rough and calloused.

"This is a nice little spot," Harry announced smoothly as they reached their destination. It was isolated between two oak trees. The lake was, across from them gleaming calmly. Once in a while a giant tentacle will protrude on to the surface.

She nodded and sat on the green grass next to him. It looks greener than yesterday, she thought to herself. Maybe she was imagining this due to the fact that she was happy. After Harry had kissed her and asked her out on that day, she couldn't help think that everything was more extravagant than before. For instance Mrs. Norris, Filch's detestable cat, now looked cute and fluffy to her. She sighed. The feeling was good.

"What are you thinking about?" Harry asked her, smiling at her pleasantly.

She smiled back, "Girl things." Not necessarily but …

He stroked her creamy white skin, delicately, and she tilted her head just a bit. His hands were somehow magical, she thought. They knew just where to touch, just how to feel. Just perfect.

"Girl things, eh?" he accused, gently, not raising his voice a bit. Not like the year before. But even then she had liked him. She had always like him.

"Yes girl things," she replied back, pinching his cheeks.

"Oi!" he exclaimed and pinned her down softly on the grass. Then started to tickle her, making her laugh uncontrollably. He grinned as she tried to save herself from his hands. "No one can save you," he said teasingly.

"Oh you think so, huh?" she said between gasps of air. She grabbed his hands and pinned him down. Now it was her turn. The struggle ensued them to rolled around the place, tickiling one another. Their laughter echoing through the place.

Their "little competition" turn into another reason to touch each other.

Her red hair waved around her like a flag, as she place herself on top of him. Her hazel eyes bored into his, defiantly, as she asked, "Ready to give up?" He laughed as she began tickling him, once more. "Yes? Soon?" she asked.

"Never," he proclaimed as he pushed her down, again. He was now in control. She struggle and squirmed as his hands pressed down her wrists. He smirked down at her. She stuck out her tongue and continued to struggle.

He then bend lower and kissed her chapped lips. She began to relax and stop squirming, like a fish without water. Her body laid motionless unlike her lips which had already respond to the kiss. He then slid his hands from her wrists and instead held her hands. Her soft yet firm hands.

They let go of each other after a few long minutes, each out of breath. "It's time to go," he declared. It was true, the sky had turned a midnight blue from sky blue none the less she did not want to depart. He patted her shoulders before standing up. Now it was her turn. He lend his hand as she stood up.

Before they migrated to the castle they removed the twigs and leaves from their hairs and clothes so people wouldn't talk. Especially nosy, big mouths girls. They, then, walked alongside, holding hands. Their hands sweaty due to the long "fight" of the tickles.

She, then, squeezed his hand, hard. Another thing that she liked about his hands, she thought, was that she could fit her own hand in his, perfectly.