*This is my first ever fic, so bear with me. Was totally thrown together and just for funzies, it's obviously not my best piece. Also, I literally don't remember the last time I wrote anything but a script, so the actions and stuff were really strange to write. I think that's it. Thanks. :)

Ron ruffled his ginger hair, and came out of the bathroom, pleased with his outfit. His fiancé had set it out of course, but he had brushed his own teeth at least, and he was lookin' mighty presentable. He turned the corner, and looked toward the bed. There were short-sleeved and sleeveless tops and dresses strewn across the covers. He picked one up and sighed. To his right she stood, starring out their bedroom window.

Hermione looked uncomfortable, crossing her arms, sniffling. She was wearing khaki shorts and a long-sleeved white cotton top. It was 90 degrees out, and they had a barbecue to attend. Why would she wear sleeves? Ron knew, he always knew. Hermione always got nervous about events in the summer, but as she had explained to him so many times last night, she was especially nervous about this party because she so badly wanted his family to like her. How a person couldn't like Hermione frankly confused Ron (I mean, a lot of things confused Ron, but this was particularly perplexing). As Hermione hung her head, Ron hugged her from the back, looping his fingers around her waist and placing his head on her shoulder. She turned her head from him and sniffled even harder.

"Ronald…"

He sighed. "Hermione, why won't you wear one of those dresses? You look so pretty in them, and I know you would be so much more comfortable in one. It's a scorcher out there."

"You don't think I know that?" She wiped away a tear.

"Your white sundress? You look so beautiful in that, and I know Mum would love to see you in it." He laughed. "Mum just wants to see you in a white dress…"

Hermione looked to him, her face wet and red. "Ron, stop." She turned back to staring out the window.

Ron turned towards her ear, squeezed her, and whispered, "Hermione please just do what makes you happy, I hate to see you crying."

Hermione whipped around, Ron's arms still around her, her arms in fists on his chest. She took a deep breath, and began yelling in frustration: "Ron! I can't wear that dress, you know that! I can't, I can't!" She pounded on his chest, and then laid her forehead in his chest, sobbing, she huffed out: "I can't let them see it. I just want to impress your family." She dropped her arms, and Ron hugged her, his head on top of hers. He rubbed her back.

"Hermione, my family already loves you. They would never even notice something as silly as that. How can a person look at your arm, when you've got a face like that?" He lifted her chin. "Please, wear the dress."

Hermione pushed away. "Ronald, what about if we do get married? I mean, white dresses… I'm not going to wear a long-sleeved wedding dress! Everyone will see the scar and they will know, and it's so ugly, and it's so awful and I just can't…" She sat on the edge of the bed, and put her face in her hands. "I'm so ashamed…"

Ron knelt down, and put his hand on her knee. "Hermione…" She continued crying. He didn't know what to do at this point. She would just push him away if he got any closer. So he did the only thing he could think to. He took Hermione's left arm and pushed up the sleeve gently. Hermione looked down as Ron held her arm.

"Mudblood." She whispered. The vowels sinking into the ground. "Such an ugly word…" She sniffed. "I mean, I scrub and scrub and scrub, just trying to get it to disappear-"

Ron looked up at her with big eyes. "Hermione?" She starred at him. He swallowed, looked back down at her arm, and traced his finger over the scar s l o w l y. He returned to her eyes. "No word to describe you could ever be ugly." He kissed her wet cheek.

She wiped her tears with her sleeve. "It's so stupid I know."

"I mean, Harry's got a scar," He said, sitting down next to her, "and he doesn't try to hide it."

"That's because it's something to be proud of! It was the one thing Voldemort could do to him. It's a scar that shows strength and courage."

"Darling, yours is a battle scar. Yours is a protective scar. You got it to save others from Bellatrix. You should be proud to have proof of something you did that was so noble. I mean, what we did, it's in our hearts, but if there were ever any doubt at how strong you are, you need to just look down and remember. And every time I see it, I remember how amazing you are, and how indebted to you I am. You saved my ass so many times, and every time I look at your arm, I'm reminded how lucky I am to have even met you, and how crazy you must be to even consider being near me."

"Ron…" Said Hermione. She put her hand on his thigh. Ron took her hand in both of his. "I just want your family to think I'm perfect, because I know how much family means to you…"

"Hermione, you are going to be part of my family, and you are so very important to me. I do care what my family thinks, and they will similarly think you are crazy for being with me." Hermione laughed. "But more than that, they will see that you are strong, intelligent, gorgeous, and overall just wonderful. Besides," He said, "Why worry about covering up something when you could be showcasing everything else? You're beautiful, Hermione. Don't allow your own demons to tell you any differently. This scar that you've earned, it makes you, you. And I love you. All of you." He grinned that large, mischievous Weasley grin. "And my family will as well."

Hermione grinned and playfully hit him. "You just wanted to see me get undressed, didn't you?"

He laughed. "So badly."