The brush of Harry's hand caused Ginny's heart to skip a beat, her breath to catch in her throat. Of course there had always been a thread of physical intimacy that had remained in their friendship -- they most certainly did not maintain a metre's long bubble with the other, and Harry had most certainly been the recipient of a hug on several occasions, over excitedly or not. This, however, was different. It was like a spark through her skin and it tugged at her insides in a way she had so stubbornly refused to acknowledge when she was in a much more sound state of mind.
All at once Ginny had realized her slip, and swallowed down the stuck breath. She could feel her cheeks and the tips of her ears begin to burn a little as she pulled her hand back.
"I'm not made of glass," she said softly. "And I've competent healers making sure everything's minded. Besides, there's no amount of cotton that can be stuffed in my brain to see you looked a little frazzled."