Disclaimer: I don't own any of it and my intention is merely to entertain. On the story now!

Harry tossed and turned for the third time on the couch in the small living room of Shell Cottage. Despite the soreness and exhaustion he felt in his whole body, his mind was very awake, thus he couldn't bring himself to slumber.

Half an hour later, as he was finally drifting off to sleep, a feminine figure slowly walked across the room toward the front door and left, making no sound at all. Even though he didn't have his glasses on, Harry could tell who the person was just by the way in which she walked. He waited a moment before taking his spectacles and going after her into the cold air of the shore, wrapped in his blankets.

He followed her from a safe distance and watched as she sat on the sand and rested her back against a nearby rock. Harry walked to the spot and silently settled himself next to the girl, resting his back against the rock as well. "What are you doing here?" he questioned in a soft tone.

"I could ask you the same thing," replied Hermione without taking her eyes off of the waves crashing on the beach.

"I followed you," he answered simply, looking into the same direction.

She finally looked at him. "Why?"

"I don't know, I guess I just wanted to make sure you were okay…"

A small smile formed on her lips. "I appreciate your concern, Harry, but you should get some sleep."

"So should you, Hermione."

She shook her head and the smile faded. "I couldn't even if I tried my very best."

Harry saw her absentmindedly run her fingers over the left sleeve of her pajamas and he remembered something he had noticed in the Malfoy Manor but had neglected then because of the chaos that broke loose in the room. Hermione had been clutching her left arm when they saved her from Bellatrix's grip and he was almost sure he had seen blood trickling down her hand from under her sleeve.

"Can I see something?" he asked reaching out.

She furrowed her brows but nodded, allowing him to gently hold her arm with a hand and roll her sleeve up with the other. There was no blood anymore, but the reddened marks stood out on her pale skin, each letter clear in the dim light coming from the moon.

Mudblood.

Harry traced the word slowly with his fingertips and stared at Hermione, whose lips were pressed in a thin line. "That's what's keeping you awake, isn't it?"

"Yes," her voice came out as a quiet whisper. Then she started crying.

Harry was never the comforting type, but he knew she needed a shoulder to cry on, so he wrapped the blanket around the two of them and passed his arm over her shoulders, bringing her closer. She buried her face on his chest and sobbed, while he soothingly ran his hand on her back, making round patterns.

After a couple of minutes, Hermione straightened herself to look at him but he refused to draw his arm back and she leaned in closer so that they fit better under the blanket. Harry looked down, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"If it weren't for me, if I hadn't said the damn name, none of this would've happened, Dobby would still be alive and you wouldn't have gone through so much pain and—"

Hermione put a finger to his lips and stroked his cheek with a thumb. "Harry, listen to me: it's not your fault." He opened his mouth to protest, but she placed another silencing finger over his lips, "you did say the name, but Dobby didn't die because of you, he died because that bitch threw a knife at him. He was just trying to save his friends, it's not like you told him to sacrifice himself."

"I know, but still… She crucio'd you, Hermione!" he retorted exasperated.

"And I would do it all over again if I knew you and Ron would be safe in the end! Besides, we saved Luna, Dean and Ollivander… Isn't it great?"

He gave up, "yes, it is. You know, I'm just glad you are safe."

She squeezed his hand and they fell into a comfortable silence. She passed her thumb over the scar on her arm with a pensive look and Harry read her mind. "You get used to it at some point, you know."

Hermione turned her head to him, "this is awful, it's like a constant reminder of my condition in the wizarding world," she mused.

"You can't let scars define you, Hermione," he reasoned, reaching out to show her the faint marks of I must not tell lies Umbridge left. "You are better than this, you are so much more than the type of blood you have, magical or muggle."

Hermione smiled, "when did you become so clever?"

"I had quite a great teacher," he smiled back.

She grabbed his hand and calmly planted a soft kiss on his scar. Harry couldn't explain it, but he felt a rush of affection for Hermione; never before had someone done such thing. It was very simple, yet it meant to him a great deal – he once read in a muggle book that a kiss on someone's scar meant fondness, for the person was either trying to show that the other's flaws didn't matter or they were trying to make the other feel better, as if the scar was a symbol of anything that hurts the scarred one.

To return the gesture, he took her arm to his lips, placed a kiss over her scar and looked up at her, who was staring at him tenderly. He realized she had read the same muggle book because of the unshed tears on her eyes and the ghost of a smile on her face. Before he could say anything, she held his head and kissed his lightning scar firmly, and he couldn't help closing his eyes as she did so.

Hermione looked at him and beamed, throwing her head back to inhale deeply after such a unique moment. From his position, sitting so close to her, Harry perceived a thin white line on her neck and understanding dawned on him as he realized the mark was caused by Bellatrix's dagger.

As if in a trance, he ducked his head forward and put his lips over the faint scar, causing a shiver to run down Hermione's spine and the girl to freeze, unable to jerk away. He pulled back and they stared into each other's eyes with such intense that it was almost tangible. Harry only tore his gaze from hers to glance at her lips, which were partially open from shock, and as the boy looked up again, he caught a glimpse of Hermione peeking at his lips too.

Hesitantly, he leaned in until they were inches apart, but refrained himself from going further without her consent. Her answer came when she closed the space between them by sealing their mouths together gently.

Harry found himself dumbstruck by the softness of her lips and by how it wasn't awkward at all to kiss his best friend so far; on the contrary, he actually felt like he wanted more, so he cupped her cheek with one hand and used the other to bring her closer by her waist. Hermione's hands found their way into his hair as she deepened the kiss and he felt a warm sensation spreading within his body, making him feel hot all of a sudden.

When the lack of air became unbearable, Hermione broke the kiss and rested her forehead against his as they both tried to catch their breaths, eyes still closed.

"Hermione, I—"

"Shh," she cut him off placing a finger to his mouth. "Don't spoil it."

Harry caressed her cheek with his thumb, "then what should we do now?"

"Let's just stay like this…"

He opened his eyes to see Hermione still with closed eyes and beaming serenely; he thought she looked more stunning than he could remember with the moonlight casting a soft glow over her face and hair. Suddenly cinnamon-colored eyes met his.

"You're beautiful," he blurted out.

Her smile widened and she ran her hand through his hair tenderly. "It's amazing that after all you've been through, you still managed to remain such a sweet person," Hermione whispered.

Harry kissed her again, this time more firmly. Although being caught off guard, she quickly responded with as much intense and sighed contently against his lips. They lost track of time and only stopped when a cold breeze made them shiver, despite the blanket wrapped around the pair.

Hermione was the one who broke the silence, "we should go back inside."

Harry was sure a disappointed look crossed his features. "You're right, we still need to rest, and I can feel it's going to be a long day tomorrow." They stood up together to avoid the blanket from falling off their shoulders and walked hand-in-hand to Shell Cottage.

When they reached the front door, Hermione turned to him and held both his hands. "I loved tonight, Harry."

"Me too… More than I can put in words. I never thought I could feel as happy as I did tonight, especially with everything that's going on."

He leaned in and kissed her passionately, his arms strongly wrapped around her thin waist; he didn't feel like letting her go at all. Hermione clung to his shirt with balled fists, as though she didn't want to let go either, but eventually they pulled away, still locked in each other's arms though.

"Promise me we'll be like this after this whole mess is over," she murmured as tears glistened in her eyes.

Harry felt a lump in his throat.

"You know I can't, but I promise you I'll be on that same spot tomorrow night… If you want me to be there, that is."

Hermione hugged him so tightly that he swore they could meld together. She rested her head against his chest, right over his fast-beating heart. "Oh, Harry, of course I want you to be there; it's all I want."

"Is it enough?"

"For now, it is."

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