Hands Never Lie

Nox

Rating: G
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 03/12/2010
Last Updated: 03/12/2010
Status: completed

Vignette on two close friends, years after the War and how much can be said by not saying anything at all. A response to a prompt over at the wildly successful Harry Potter Non-Cannon Ships Comment Ficathon.

Chapters

1. Hands Never LIe

1. Hands Never LIe

Hands Never Lie

A Harry Potter Fanfic

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Overview: Vignette on two close friends, years after the War and how much can be said by not saying anything at all.

Rating: G

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and other related trademarks and copyrighted materials are property of their respective owners. Use of such properties is for entertainment purposes only and does not constitute a claim on such properties.

Authour's Notes: This was written as part of the Harry Potter Non-Cannon Ships Comment Ficathon. The specific prompt was this:

Harry/Hermione, baby you've got the sort of hands to rip me apart

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Luna Lovegood Truism: Hugs can lie. Words can lie. Even kisses can lie. But hands? Hands never lie. They can't.

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In a quiet moment at the Alumni Ball celebrating a decade of peace, Hermione moved next to Harry, for once ignored by their fellows. She took a breath and steeled herself. Her fingers brushed his, tentative. They both continued to look at the dancers, including their partners, shaking and gyrating to the band. Her thumb brushed over the words etched into his hand from that bitch, Umbridge. The momentary indignation of that ancient wrong surprised her. Her fingers crept around his and slipped into his palm. She sighed when Harry's fingers twined with hers and they stood, hand-in-hand not saying a word.

What his hands were saying wasn't allowed, but he could not tell a lie. Must not. Three words that he was only supposed to say to Ginny, and she to Ron. But they squeezed their palms together anyways, fingers clinging, afraid for this moment passing too quickly.

It did pass too quickly. Ginny, flushed from dancing with Neville, stumbled over to where they were and tugged at Harry's sleeve for a dance.

Their hands were slow in releasing from clandestine, digital adultery, but Harry managed one last press of his hand, those unspoken three words plaintive in that gesture. Hermione squeezed back with the only message she could send before Ginny's insistence dragged him to the dance floor.

I know.

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