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Permanent

Hermione shut the door behind her, trying desperately to hold the tears in. They pushed at her eyes, threatening to spill over. She had run from the kitchen as fast as she could, when her sleeve got pushed up and Harry's eyes had travelled to her agitated skin. The scar seemed even brighter today, which just made all this so much worse.

It still stung when she went back through her memories, and felt the pain cursing through her body. The cruciatus curse was nothing like what she had read about. It was a thousand times worse. It felt as though electricity had been sent through her veins, as fire ate away at her delicate skin and knives cut deep into her, spilling blood everywhere. But the only thing that had really happened, was a simple flick of a wand and eight little letters carved harshly into her arm.

Those eight letters spelled out the word she hated most. One that seemed to define her, no matter how hard she tried to break the mould. The word was like poison to her ears. And now it was permanently etched into her fair skin, red and hot to the touch. It was like a death sentence to her. She was nothing but a...a... mudblood.

No matter how many people told her otherwise, or how many times she tried to tell herself not to dwell on such... stupid labels, she just couldn't get past the fact that she was indeed, a mudblood. It may be a harsh, vicious name, but it was very true.

She angrily shoved her shirt up to her elbow, glaring at the scar with venom in her eyes. She wanted it gone. No matter how many incantations she tried, it wouldn't vanish. Not even fade. She'd even allowed Ron to try a spell he'd found in a book, but it had only caused her to gasp in pain, and she lost count of how many times he apologized that night. Probably in the hundreds.

It had been two months. Nearly sixty days had passed since Bellatrix Lestrange had carved into her skin, and used the unforgivable curse on her. She could still remember the amused look on her face. The malicious smile that played at her lips, even though her eyes had worry within them. She could still remember her own screams echoing in the Malfoy's mansion, as Draco stood and did nothing. She knew he was evil, but she hadn't known just how evil until that evening.

And then Ron and Harry had saved her. And despite the shame that had consumed her, and still did to this day, hope had seized her heart, as Ron shouted at Bellatrix bravely. Right about then was when Hermione realized she loved him.

And thank god she had. They'd bloody defeated Voldemort. They'd destroyed horcruxes, fought in a war and killed people. They'd even lost some of their own. But she never would have been able to do any of it if Ron hadn't kissed her. Without that... she would have broken down.

Sort of like she was doing now. Shamefully, she fell onto the bed and pulled out her wand, muttering several curses and spells at her arm, none of them working. Some stung, others tickled. And a few of them, not that she cared much, made her bite her tongue in hopes of not screaming in pain.

She tried everything she could remember from books, wizards, classes and lore. And yet nothing did anything to help the scar fade. But suddenly, she remembered one she'd never tried before. It was so simple...maybe that's why she was debating whether or not it would work at that moment in her head.

"Evanesco." She muttered and flicked her wand, and although her scar prickled, nothing happened. Dark magic just couldn't be erased, it seemed.

Her failure only forced more tears to flow, and sobs to form in her throat like thick hiccups. Finally, losing all self control, she sobbed. Her vision became blurred, and her throat constricted. She was just so ashamed. Hermione Granger was a failure. A weak failure.

She was so focused breathing through her breakdown, she barely heard the door open and close softly. She heard someone take a deep breath behind her, and tried to stop crying. Tried being the key word. Her sobs hitched in her throat, but did nothing to help her cover up her sadness, like she'd been doing for so long.

"Hermione..." Ron's voice came from behind her back, filled with concern and turmoil.

"Go back downstairs!" She urged, wishing desperately for him to leave. He was not allowed to see her like this.

"No." He said after a pause, and soon she felt his arms snake around her waist as the bed creaked under him.

And Hermione gave up. She gave up on trying. On hiding what she felt; what ate away at her every moment of every day. On trying to be strong, even if she was far from it. Hermione stopped.

She fell back into him, her sobs becoming louder and more pronounced. He lay her down and pulled her close, his arms protectively holding her to him. She leant her head on his chest and cried. His scent surrounded her, comforting her, but not enough to stop...whatever this was.

Her hate for herself only doubled when she heard Ron begin to cry. She felt his tears hit her hair and soak through, much like Hermione's were doing to his maroon shirt. She wanted to apologize, but her throat wouldn't allow her to do anything but sob and whimper. He began to stroke her back softly, and she clenched him closer.

"I'm sorry." She forced out through her cries. Ron sniffed and held back a sob, and she felt him kiss her hair.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." He said, barely a whisper. She could tell he was trying to be strong. That only made her cry more.

They lay like that for a long time. You'd think eventually, they'd run out of tears. They didn't. Both cried the whole time, unable to stop. Neither could slow the sobs and hiccups even if they tried. Hermione had the feeling neither actually wanted to stop. If one stopped, the other would feel alone. So neither did.

Hermione lost herself in Ron. She knew she'd ruined his shirt, because her cheek, forehead and bangs were soaked as well. But she took solace in the fact that he didn't attempt to move her. His arms were shaking with his cries, but they kept their strong hold on her back. His chest shook as hers did, almost in time with the other.

Suddenly, Hermione spoke.

"I can't get rid of it." She admitted and a tremor ran through her.

"We will. I promise. We'll find a way." Ron assured her.

Almost a full minute passed, the silence only disturbed by their sobs. If they listened hard enough, both could hear Ginny downstairs arguing with Harry about if Voldemort was really gone. Both Ron and Hermione knew he really was. Harry's scar hadn't hurt since that day. The thought only reminded Hermione of her own scar...

"But what if we can't?" She asked, and detached from Ron only to quickly wipe a few tears from her eyes.

"Then it doesn't matter." Ron said, quickly, and as soon as a few of her tears were gone, she clung to him again.

"What?" She asked, very confused.

"It doesn't matter. You are absolutely the most beautiful person I have ever met. With or without the scar. It doesn't define you." Ron said, and she hid in his shirt.

"But-"

"Hermione. Look at me." He said, and she did as he asked. "We wouldn't have lasted two days without you. I told Harry that when he tried to go off on his own before Bill and Fleur's wedding. Well, I told him never to mention it again, but I guess that's out the window now."

Hermione raised a tired eyebrow and began to shake her head.

"No, stop it. It's true Hermione. You are the smartest, most beautiful, most amazing person in the world. Just because you came from Muggle parents, doesn't mean anything. Just because you have that scar doesn't mean anything. What matters is that we all love you. I love you." Ron said, both of them still crying.

Hermione was rendered speechless.

"And anyone who ever says that word," Ron said and pulled down her sleeve to cover the scar, "around me, will get what Malfoy would have got in second year if my wand hadn't broke."

A faint smile flickered across both their lips.

"But I am a mud-"

Suddenly Ron leaned in and kissed her, his lips lightly pressing against her own, sending the butterflies in her stomach aflutter. She kissed back as her eyes slid closed. For a second, both paused, lips still connected, before Ron pulled back.

"Don't say it. It's not you." He said, and tightened his arms around her, as she curled into his chest once again.

They lay there for a long time. Every so often, Ron would kiss her forehead when she cried, and she would hug him closer when he sniffed, trying to hold back a sob. They alternated crying, and comforting each other easily, falling into some sort of a rhythm. Hermione eventually shut her red eyes and rested, but didn't sleep. Both lay awake, eyes closed in the company of the other.

"I love you too by the way." Hermione uttered quietly, after the light had dimmed from the window and evening set upon the fields outside.

Ron chuckled beside her, and his chest vibrated under her cheek.

"Well I guess that's a good thing." He whispered.

And Hermione couldn't help but smile a little.

The end.

I think.

Maybe I could add more eventually. Please review, I'd love to see what you think. :)

xoxox