Draco/Hermione (hand-holding)
If Draco had curated a list of scenarios in which Hermione Granger might make him cry, what eventually does it would never have occurred to him.
A scathing comment designed to strip him down and cut him to the bone is more probable.
Being held at the edge of orgasm until he’s weeping is as unlikely though vastly more desirable.
But when her hand slides gently into his, fingers intertwining just enough to steady the shake of his own, he feels flayed and managed all in one.
The January wind is bitter on his face, and he can almost blame it for pulling forward the tears that have remained painfully repressed; is tempted to accept it as the culprit for the way his entire skeleton feels like it’s rattling.
He’s been standing at the grave of his father for an hour, wanting to let go but terrified of shattering in the process.
They’d never said goodbye. He’d never heard ‘I’m sorry’.
He can’t get closure from a corpse. He's not sure he can live without it.
Her approach is as silent as the calm acceptance her touch suggests.
His heart is so cold.
Her hand is so warm.
Her fingers hold him together and so he finally lets himself cry.