a/n: Hello! Yes, it is me again. I just couldn't stay away. These two are way too cute for words.

One of my reviewers for 'No Matter What' requested a fic in which Harry discovers Hermione's scar. Alas, this one is a movieverse!

~This is dedicated to Listen (fabricated fantasies) and Jenny (inescapable scars), for agreeing with me whole-heartedly on the Harmony friendship, and for being generally amazing people. I've had some great conversations with them. Love you!

Without further ado…

Nope, wait. You'd think after twenty of these I'd remember.

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, because if it did, I'd have the entire series re-written for more fabulous friendship moments.

Harry sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. It was late. The moon was high, and the stars were out. He could see spooky clouds floating past the window from table he was at. The window in front of him was locked and bolted, with charms and spells, but this still didn't seem to ease his apprehension.

Glancing at the clock, he realized it was actually early in the morning rather than late at night. His arms were sore from digging a grave a few hours previously, and his heart still hurt from almost losing his family earlier in the evening. His eyes were drooping, he could feel them sag with tiredness. He ran a hand over his face.

He must have looked a sight, he thought.

However, what was he supposed to do? Just fall into a deep sleep after his best friend's near death? Her screams still rang in his ear, still cut through him like a physical pain. No one would be able to sleep after that. He looked wearily around the room, half-hoping Hermione would come into the kitchen, just to reassure himself that she was really alive.

It was, after all, a close call.

Too close for his liking.

It was times like these when he truly doubted himself for bringing the two of them along with him, his worry for the two escalating. Because they had a future that went beyond Voldemort, a future that was not reliable on a prophecy that was destined to be death of one of them. He understood the fact the he may not survive, however, Ron and Hermione had a better chance of surviving then he did. Yet they still chose to stay here, in the middle of a war, fighting. They could've ran off to America, if they chose to, and it was times like these that he sort of wished they had.

Soft footsteps were making their was into the kitchen, and Harry turned to see who it was. Like a ghost, her face and dressing gown were pale. Her hair hung limply around her face, and she shivered beneath her small frame. Hermione jumped when she saw him.

"Harry? What are you doing up?"

Harry twisted his mouth. 'Couldn't sleep. I could ask you the same question."

"Same. And, I'm a little sore."

Harry flinched, but didn't respond. Hermione must've noticed, but she made her way over to the sink for a glass of water. After this, she came back and sat in front of him, wincing slightly as she sat.

Harry knew better than to say what was on his mind, as he knew he would get an entire Hermione lecture. He had already gotten one before, as there was part of his brain that still spoke to him in Hermione's voice, and he didn't fancy getting another, so he kept his mouth shut.

However, he knew Hermione must've noticed that something was troubling him, because she narrowed her eyes.

"Harry, you can't honestly still be thinking that you'd be better off without us," she whispered, exasperated. She sipped her water.

"Well, not really," Harry said defensively, "it's just, look at you, Hermione! You were nearly killed tonight!" His whispering grew louder, in vain attempt for her to understand.

"I understand that, Harry, but don't you think I knew the risks when I agreed to come with you? I'm the brightest which of my age, you must have more faith in me than that." Despite the purple bags under her eyes, they looked bright with emotion.

"Hermione, when you agreed to come with me, we had no idea how we would find these Horcruxes. We could have gone to France and had a jolly old vacation."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Harry, like that's what I thought. You're confusing me with Ron. And, besides, I wasn't talking about sixth year, I was talking about first year."

Harry frowned. "Hermione, I don't doubt your intelligence, so please don't doubt mine. You can't possibly expect me to believe that you knew what you were getting yourself into at age eleven? I didn't even know!" Their whispers were becoming louder, their tones more passionate. Hermione scraped back her chair, and rested her forearms on the table, searching his eyes.

"No, Harry. I didn't, but when did knowing the unknown of the future ever stop me?"

Harry sunk back down onto his chair. "Never."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "Exactly my point."

She lowered herself onto her chair again, the sleeve of her dressing gown coming up to reveal the faintest hint of blood on her arm. Harry frowned, wondering how Fleur had possibly missed a spot when she was healing Hermione.

"Hermione, let me see your arm for a minute." He wasn't advanced in healing spells, but he figured that he may be able to use the charm Tonks had used on him in sixth year.

To his surprise, Hermione quickly covered her sleeve. "It's not a big deal, Harry."

He clenched his jaw, becoming more curious. "Hermione, what's on your arm?"

Her voice became thick with emotion. "It's just a scar, Harry, nothing to worry about." He could tell she was fighting back tears.

Quickly, he took hold of her hand and dragged it closer to him. Carefully, he rolled up her sleeve, the redness dark in contrast to her pale skin. She squeaked in protest, but neither of them had ever let protests get in the way when it came to each other.

He saw a D and an O, wondering what sort of scar could carry the distinct shape of letters. He gasped when he saw the full word, the cold truth, etched upon her skin.

"Hermione.." he whispered. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She gazed fiercely at him. "Because it makes no difference. It's who I am, Harry, and if Bellatrix feels empowered, more worthy, as she carves those words onto me, if she feels the need for the word to become a physical reminder, so be it. It certainly makes no difference to me."

Harry ran his hand over the letters, Hermione occasionally letting out an intake of breath in pain. This, this is what happened when he trusted, when he-

No. He musn't become like Dumbledore. He slid his hand down Hermione's arm and over her wrist, grabbing hold of her hand.

She was here, she was breathing, so none of that even mattered anymore. As long as she took breath, as long as any one of them took breath, he would trust.

Hermione squeezed his hand with the strength that was left in her. Was this what is like for her? To be grateful for every breath he took, not mattering whether he was littered in scars or not? Only the fact that he was still here?

Hermione gave him a weak smile, which he returned.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

She nodded. "I'll be fine, Harry, it'll fade. I'd do it again in a heartbeat. It's worth it, Harry. If it keeps you alive, and if it keeps the wizarding world safe, I think it'd be incredibly selfish of me to whine over words that I don't find even define me, don't you think?"

He cocked his head. "Has anyone ever told you that you're the brightest witch of your age?"

Hermione laughed softly. "I've been told once or twice."

"But seriously, thank you. We'd be lost without you, Ron and I. We need you."

"Thank you, Harry. It means a lot. But for the record, I'd be lost without you, too."

a/n: Well, there you have it! I'd love to hear your thoughts! I'm thinking about turning this into a continuation of No Matter What, it depends on how popular this is, and whoever wants me to continue. If you do want me to continue, let me know in a review! Until then, it shall remain a stand-alone oneshot.

Please, no favouriting without reviewing, because I just might cry. Thank you!