If hearing her name in such a way hadn’t been enough to stop her from patting at his shirt, his hand over hers was. As if he’d pressed a button, her fingers released the towel from her grip, and she turned her hand to meet his to squeeze it in return. His grip had always been solid and steady, one that she wanted desperately to keep ahold on like a life raft out at a turbulent sea. It was always with a tightness in her throat that Irene told herself to let go, that she would have to try and swim on her own; dragging him down with her had never been an option she wanted to thrust upon him.

Maybe today was the day was the day that she held on a little longer. He’d given her permission to do as much. So she nodded silently, blinking rapidly before raising her gaze to him. An apologetic smile tugged at her lips before a soft chuckle followed. “Thank you, Elias.” She murmured before giving in, leaning forward and resting her head against his shoulder. She gritted her teeth together, brows furrowing as she tried to quash something: the urge to press a kiss into his shoulder. It should be me looking after you. Irene knew it would be a while before those words faded from her memory.

Before the mishap, he’d smelled faintly of wood and fresh air; now it was mixed with the sweetness from the butterbeer, and she took a bracing breath to steady herself.

---

The following 1 user Likes Irene Crawley's post:1 user Likes Irene Crawley's post
   Elias Grimstone