Scar by gluglug

Rating: PG
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 23/12/2009
Last Updated: 24/12/2009
Status: Completed

On the second anniversary of Sirius' death, Hermione reveals a secret to Harry. Updated with
an alternate ending.




1. Scar
-------



Scar by Gluglug

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and all the characters in it belong to J.K. Rowling. No
infringement intended, just borrowing.

A/N: I found this one shot on my hard drive - it was written before DH came out. I wrote it
because JKR never really followed up on Hermione's near death experience in the DoM or the
possible scar she might have received.

===============================

Hermione Granger stepped out onto the terrace of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. The sun was setting
on a warm early June evening. She had spent the entire day in the Black Library researching a lead
Harry and Ron had found on the last remaining Horcrux, only taking brief breaks for meals, while
the boys went out on another search with Remus Lupin. Hermione didn't like it when her boys
went out without her, but she knew that Remus wouldn't let them get into too much trouble.

As she watched the blood red sunset, she let out a long sigh as she realized that nearly a year
had passed since Professor Dumbledore's death and exactly two since Sirius Black disappeared
through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. Hermione's thoughts wandered to Harry, as they
often did, and she wondered if he realized that this was the second anniversary of his beloved
godfather's passing.

Harry didn't talk much about Sirius; in fact, he hadn't really spoken of him at all
since his death.

It always bothered her that Harry never really openly grieved for him, not the way he had for
Dumbledore. Then again, Sirius had no funeral; no ceremony to mark his passing nor did he have a
grave. He just disappeared on that fateful day two years ago.

Hermione felt a slight twinge near her heart and remembered the searing pain she felt when
Dolohov hit her with that silent curse. She had a physical reminder, too - a pale pinkish streak
right above her breasts, something that had only been seen by Madam Pomfrey and her parents. She
only thought about her scar on occasion, usually when she looked in the mirror as she dressed. Her
scar was nothing like Harry's - his was on his forehead for the world to see.

Hermione never talked much about what had happened to her that day, but it still scared her. She
had been right all along that they had walked into a trap. Even though she knew better, she did it
for Harry. She was always doing it for him. She had tried to distance herself a little from him
their sixth year and concentrate on being a normal teenaged witch, but Dumbledore's death ended
that. Her primary focus, again, was Harry and his quest to defeat Voldemort and his army of Death
Eaters.

“Enjoying the sunset?” A familiar voice interrupted her reverie.

Hermione smiled. Harry had returned from his outing and came to stand beside her.

“Oh yes, it's lovely. I've been in the library all day, and just wanted some air. So how
did it go today?”

Harry shrugged, “Same old, same old. We knew where Ollivander was hiding out, but when we got
there, he had gone. Nobody we talked to know where he went. I don't think we're ever going
to find him or the Horcrux we suspect he has.”

“We'll find it, Harry,” she promised him, for the millionth time. “Where's Ron?”

“He apparated to the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley's making his favorite meatloaf for dinner, so he
couldn't pass it up. He asked me to go with him, but I wasn't in the mood to deal with
Ginny and her not so subtle hints that she wants to get back together.”

Hermione looked at Harry's profile. “She's not giving up, is she?”

“Yeah, she sent me an owl the other day, saying how much she misses me, and couldn't I take
a break from saving the world to have a picnic with her. Why can't she take a hint?”

“Harry, sometimes you just have to be blunt and tell her that you aren't interested in her
anymore. It might hurt, but it will allow her to move on.”

“I suppose you're right, Hermione.”

“I always am, you know,” she smirked.

Harry frowned and faced her; Hermione noticed how tired and defeated he looked. “Well, I will
deal with Ginny when I'm ready. I have other things to focus on, as you well know. I can't
believe we've been on this hunt for nearly a year. When we left Hogwarts, I thought maybe by
now we'd be done with it.”

“Well, you need to be patient. I know it's hard but you have to hang in there.”

“I know. I guess I'm just feeling a little down today. You do know what today is, don't
you?” Harry asked, as he rested his elbows on top of the terrace wall.

Hermione nodded, surprised that Harry acknowledged it. “Yes, the anniversary of Sirius'
death.”

“It's been two years,” sighed Harry. “Where did the time go?”

“Harry, why don't you ever talk about him?” Hermione asked pointedly.

“Sirius? What's there to say? He's gone and I'll never see him again,” he replied
bitterly.

“I know. It's just that the summer after he died, we never talked about how you were
feeling.

I never really saw you grieve for him. I mean, he didn't even have a funeral.”

“Hermione, why would I want to talk about it?” Harry said, his voice rising. “We both know that
it was my fault he died. I'm the idiot who was tricked into thinking that Voldemort had him,
and you knew better. I should've listened to you instead of shouting at you.”

“You did listen to me, remember?” Hermione replied fiercely. “I asked you to check to see if
Sirius was at home and we snuck into Umbridge's office to use her fireplace. It's not your
fault that Kreacher lied to you.”

“I should've known that Kreacher was lying. He hated Sirius and vice versa. I was so
stupid.”

“Harry, you're not to blame for his death. Bellatrix was - she killed her own cousin! And if
you believe you were stupid then so was I because I went along with you, even though I had my
doubts,” Hermione said impatiently.

“If you still had your doubts, why did you come, then?” Harry asked, sounding equally
impatient.

“Because I had no choice! I had to make sure that you didn't get yourself killed.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, that's ironic, given you were the one who was nearly killed.”

The impact of Harry's words hit her. She had always known that, but they never spoke of it
before.

“That's right,” she nodded, feeling tears threatening. “I could've died.”

Harry turned to look at her, the last of the setting rays reflected in his glasses. “For a
moment there, I thought you had,” he said softly.

“You thought I had d-died?” Hermione asked, her voice breaking.

“Yeah,” Harry continued. “I panicked and fell to my knees and Neville tried to help and one of
the Death Eaters kicked him in the face and broke his nose. But even with a broken nose and blood
everywhere, Neville kept it together. I, on the other hand, was a right mess, I couldn't think
properly or even breathe. I couldn't even look at your face, because I thought you were dead.
Then Neville had the good sense to check your pulse and told me that you were still alive. When I
heard that, I nearly passed out from relief.”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione breathed, as tears flowed down her face. She embraced him then, burying
her head on his shoulder. “I had no idea that you went through all of that. I mean Neville told me
later that you helped him carry me to safety and I knew about his nose, but I didn't know…”

“But now you do,” Harry finished, continuing to hold her tightly. He pulled back for a moment
and looked at Hermione for a moment, his green gaze filled with intensity.

“And I hate to think how I would react if something like that happened again, only this time you
wouldn't be as lucky.”

He let go and turned away from her, as the twilight settled around them.

“How would you react?” Hermione whispered behind him.

Harry turned around and asked angrily, “How do you think I'd react? Hermione, if I panicked
and freaked out two years ago at the possibility of your death, how do you think it would be if I
lost you now, for real?”

“What's changed over two years, Harry?”

“We have. Or at least I have,” Harry replied, running a hand through his messy hair. Back then,
you were one of my best friends. But now you're…”

“I'm what?”

“I don't know, I just know that you are more than just my best friend. You're my
partner, you're my guide, you're….my Hermione.”

”I'm your Hermione?” she repeated, her heart pounding.

Harry nodded. “Yes, I'm not sure quite how it happened, but you are my Hermione.”

Hermione smiled through her tears. “And you are my Harry.”

Harry crossed the distance between them and before she knew it, he was kissing her. His lips
were soft and sweet but she sensed a hunger and passion as well. Hermione poured herself into their
kiss; her whole body was humming with an energy she had never felt, let alone knew existed. All too
soon, the kiss ended with both panting a bit, breathing in the night air.

Harry leaned his forehead against Hermione's. “That was incredible.”

Hermione nodded. “It was, wasn't it?”

“Let's give it another go,” Harry said playfully.

“Yes, we should, but I want to show you something first,” Hermione said, her tone serious as she
took Harry's hand and pulled him toward the terrace door.

Once inside the house, Hermione opened the door to her bedroom and led Harry inside. She tapped
her wand against the wall, muttered “lumos'' and the lanterns in her room illuminated.

“Harry, please sit in that chair and wait for me, I'll be right back.”

He nodded at her with a look that combined desire and curiosity.

Hermione went into the bathroom that was connected to her bedroom and closed the door. She
looked into the mirror with resolve. She had to do this, to show him. Hermione unzipped her
lightweight hooded sweater and removed it. She was dressed in a thin white camisole and her jeans.
Her top was cut low enough that her scar was visible.

She took a deep breath and went back into the bedroom, finding Harry sitting where she left him
with an expectant look on his face. He broke into a seductive smile, when he saw Hermione in her
semi-undressed state.

He stood up as she approached him and before Hermione could say anything, he was kissing her
again, this time with more passion. As he left her lips to nibble on her right earlobe, Hermione
mustered her self-control and found her voice.

“Harry, please stop.”

Harry let go of her earlobe and looked puzzled. “What's wrong?”

“Harry, I think you misunderstood me. I didn't bring you in here for a snogging
session.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Right, you said you wanted to show me something. I assumed it
was you in that sexy top.”

“Well, kind of,” Hermione blushed in wonderment that Harry was using the word “sexy” and “you”
in the same sentence.

“I wanted to show you my scar.”

“What scar?” Harry asked. He looked down at where Hermione's hand was on her chest as the
realization seemed to dawn on his face. He peered closer to see the pale pink line going straight
across her tanned skin.

“Oh Hermione….” he seemed at a loss for words and sat back in the chair again. “Dolohov's
curse…I didn't know, I had no idea you had a scar. You never told me.”

“I know, we never really talked about what happened that day, not until now. I guess I
didn't think it was important.”

“Not important? Hermione you have a visual reminder that you nearly died on your body, just like
I do. The only difference is - is that mine is visible and people gawk at it. You're able to
hide yours from the world.”

“Yes, but I can't hide it from you. Not anymore. Harry, if I'm your Hermione now, I want
you to see what you are getting…someone who isn't perfect…someone who is disfigured.”

“Disfigured? Hermione I would hardly call that disfigured. Your scar shows me that you are a
very brave witch who followed her foolish best friend into danger and took a hit for him. It
doesn't turn me off, if anything it makes you more beautiful.”

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. “You really think I'm beautiful?”

Harry stood up and cradled her face in his hands, trying to dry her tears. “Yes, I think
you're beautiful, Hermione.”

He kissed her again and Hermione did indeed feel beautiful. He then dipped his head lower and
traced the outline of her scar with his fingertips and then repeated the action gently with his
lips.

When Harry finished his careful administration to her scar he looked up at her and what Hermione
saw in his eyes nearly took her breath away. She knew without a doubt that he loved her.

“I love you so much, my Harry,” she breathed, tearfully as she returned the favor to his scar,
first brushing it with her fingertips and then placing a kiss on his forehead.

“I love you, too. My brave, brilliant Hermione,” he whispered. “Scar and all.”

Fin

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2. Scar - Alternate Ending
--------------------------



Scar - Alternate ending

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and all the characters in it belong to J.K. Rowling. No
infringement intended, just borrowing.

Summary: The first half of the story is identical to chapter one except this is more of a
friendship story with some UST thrown in. I'm curious to see which ending people like
better!

Hermione Granger stepped out onto the terrace of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. The sun was setting
on a warm early June evening. She had spent the entire day in the Black Library researching a lead
Harry and Ron had found on the last remaining Horcrux, only taking brief breaks for meals, while
the boys went out on another search with Remus Lupin. Hermione didn't like it when her boys
went out without her, but she knew that Remus wouldn't let them get into too much trouble.

As she watched the blood red sunset, she let out a long sigh as she realized that nearly a year
had passed since Professor Dumbledore's death and exactly two since Sirius Black disappeared
through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. Hermione's thoughts wandered to Harry, as they
often did, and she wondered if he realized that this was the second anniversary of his beloved
godfather's passing.

Harry didn't talk much about Sirius; in fact, he hadn't really spoken of him at all
since his death.

It always bothered her that Harry never really openly grieved for him, not the way he had for
Dumbledore. Then again, Sirius had no funeral; no ceremony to mark his passing nor did he have a
grave. He just disappeared on that fateful day two years ago.

Hermione felt a slight twinge near her heart and remembered the searing pain she felt when
Dolohov hit her with that silent curse. She had a physical reminder, too - a pale pinkish streak
right above her breasts, something that had only been seen by Madam Pomfrey and her parents. She
only thought about her scar on occasion, usually when she looked in the mirror as she dressed. Her
scar was nothing like Harry's - his was on his forehead for the world to see.

Hermione never talked much about what had happened to her that day, but it still scared her. She
had been right all along that they had walked into a trap. Even though she knew better, she did it
for Harry. She was always doing it for him. She had tried to distance herself a little from him
their sixth year and concentrate on being a normal teenaged witch, but Dumbledore's death ended
that. Her primary focus, again, was Harry and his quest to defeat Voldemort and his army of Death
Eaters.

“Enjoying the sunset?” A familiar voice interrupted her reverie.

Hermione smiled. Harry had returned from his outing and came to stand beside her.

“Oh yes, it's lovely. I've been in the library all day, and just wanted some air. So how
did it go today?”

Harry shrugged, “Same old, same old. We knew where Ollivander was hiding out, but when we got
there, he had gone. Nobody we talked to know where he went. I don't think we're ever going
to find him or the Horcrux we suspect he has.”

“We'll find it, Harry,” she promised him, for the millionth time. “Where's Ron?”

“He apparated to the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley's making his favorite meatloaf for dinner, so he
couldn't pass it up. He asked me to go with him, but I wasn't in the mood to deal with
Ginny and her not so subtle hints that she wants to get back together.”

Hermione looked at Harry's profile. “She's not giving up, is she?”

“Yeah, she sent me an owl the other day, saying how much she misses me, and couldn't I take
a break from saving the world to have a picnic with her. Why can't she take a hint?”

“Harry, sometimes you just have to be blunt and tell her that you aren't interested in her
anymore. It might hurt, but it will allow her to move on.”

“I suppose you're right, Hermione.”

“I always am, you know,” she smirked.

Harry frowned and faced her; Hermione noticed how tired and defeated he looked. “Well, I will
deal with Ginny when I'm ready. I have other things to focus on, as you well know. I can't
believe we've been on this hunt for nearly a year. When we left Hogwarts, I thought maybe by
now we'd be done with it.”

“Well, you need to be patient. I know it's hard but you have to hang in there.”

“I know. I guess I'm just feeling a little down today. You do know what today is, don't
you?” Harry asked, as he rested his elbows on top of the terrace wall.

Hermione nodded, surprised that Harry acknowledged it. “Yes, the anniversary of Sirius'
death.”

“It's been two years,” sighed Harry. “Where did the time go?”

“Harry, why don't you ever talk about him?” Hermione asked pointedly.

“Sirius? What's there to say? He's gone and I'll never see him again,” he replied
bitterly.

“I know. It's just that the summer after he died, we never talked about how you were
feeling.

I never really saw you grieve for him. I mean, he didn't even have a funeral.”

“Hermione, why would I want to talk about it?” Harry said, his voice rising. “We both know that
it was my fault he died. I'm the idiot who was tricked into thinking that Voldemort had him,
and you knew better. I should've listened to you instead of shouting at you.”

“You did listen to me, remember?” Hermione replied fiercely. “I asked you to check to see if
Sirius was at home and we snuck into Umbridge's office to use her fireplace. It's not your
fault that Kreacher lied to you.”

“I should've known that Kreacher was lying. He hated Sirius and vice versa. I was so
stupid.”

“Harry, you're not to blame for his death. Bellatrix was - she killed her own cousin! And if
you believe you were stupid then so was I because I went along with you, even though I had my
doubts,” Hermione said impatiently.

“If you still had your doubts, why did you come, then?” Harry asked, sounding equally
impatient.

“Because I had no choice! I had to make sure that you didn't get yourself killed.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, that's ironic, given you were the one who was nearly killed.”

The impact of Harry's words hit her. She had always known that, but they never spoke of it
before.

“That's right,” she nodded, feeling tears threatening. “I could've died.”

Harry turned to look at her, the last of the setting rays reflected in his glasses. “For a
moment there, I thought you had,” he said softly.

“You thought I had d-died?” Hermione asked, her voice breaking.

“Yeah,” Harry continued. “I panicked and fell to my knees and Neville tried to help and one of
the Death Eaters kicked him in the face and broke his nose. But even with a broken nose and blood
everywhere, Neville kept it together. I, on the other hand, was a right mess, I couldn't think
properly or even breathe. I couldn't even look at your face, because I thought you were dead.
Then Neville had the good sense to check your pulse and told me that you were still alive. When I
heard that, I nearly passed out from relief.”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione breathed, as tears flowed down her face. She embraced him then, burying
her head on his shoulder. “I had no idea that you went through all of that. I mean Neville told me
later that you helped him carry me to safety and I knew about his nose, but I didn't know…”

“But now you do,” Harry finished, continuing to hold her tightly. He pulled back for a moment
and looked at Hermione for a moment, his green gaze filled with intensity.

“And I hate to think how I would react if something like that happened again, only this time you
wouldn't be as lucky.”

He let go and turned away from her, as the twilight settled around them.

“How would you react?” Hermione whispered behind him.

Harry turned around and asked angrily, “How do you think I'd react? Hermione, if I panicked
and freaked out two years ago at the possibility of your death, how do you think it would be if I
lost you now, for real?”

“What's changed over two years, Harry?”

“We have. Or at least I have,” Harry replied, running a hand through his messy hair. Back then,
you were one of my best friends. But now you're…”

“I'm what?”

“I don't know, Hermione, if I lost you now, I don't know what I would do….”

“Oh Harry, you won't lose me, I will always be here.”

They embraced again, standing as one as the sun disappeared below the horizon.

Hermione pulled away first. “It's dark now. I'm going inside, coming?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, although he stood rooted to his spot on the terrace, looking lost in
thought.

“Hermione? I was just wondering, did Dolohov's curse leave a mark?”

Hermione nodded, surprised at his question. “Yes. What made you think of that?”

“I remember that you had to take all of those potions to get better and Madam Pomfrey said the
curse had done quite a bit of damage.”

“Yeah, it was pretty painful for a few days……..um, do you want to see it?” Hermione blurted
out.

“See what?”

“My scar.”

Harry shrugged, looking surprised. “Um, sure, if you want to show it to me. Hell, you see my
scar everyday; I might as well get to see yours.”

Hermione opened the terrace door and Harry followed. Once inside the house, Hermione opened the
door to her bedroom and led Harry inside. She tapped her wand against the wall, muttered
“lumos'' and the lanterns in her room illuminated.

“Harry, please sit in that chair and wait for me, I'll be right back.” She said, pointing at
an armchair in the corner of her room.

Hermione went into the bathroom that was connected to her bedroom and closed the door. She
looked into the mirror with resolve. She wasn't sure why she was compelled to show her scar to
Harry, but she felt like he should know. Hermione unzipped her lightweight hooded sweater and
removed it. She was now dressed in a white camisole and jeans. Her top was cut low enough that her
scar was visible.

She took a deep breath and went back into the bedroom, finding Harry sitting where she left him
with an expectant look on his face. She approached him slowly until she was standing right in front
of where he was sitting, his face level with her torso.

She looked down to see Harry peering closer at the deep pink line going straight across her
tanned skin. She noticed that he looked a little flushed.

“Oh Hermione….” he seemed at a loss for words and leaned back the chair. “Why didn't you
ever tell me?”

“I don't know - we never really talked about what happened that day, not until now. I guess
I didn't think it was important.”

“Not important? Hermione you have a reminder that you nearly died on your body, just like I do.
The only difference is - is that mine is visible and people gawk at it. You're able to hide
yours.”

“Yes, but I can't hide it anymore…this disfigurement is a part of me, a reminder of what we
went through that day. I'll have it for the rest of my life.”

“Disfigurement? Hermione, I would hardly call you disfigured. Your scar shows me that you are a
very brave witch who followed her foolish best friend into danger and took a hit for him.”

“You don't think it's ugly?”

Harry reached up and gently traced the scar with his fingertips, across the top of her chest.
Hermione's heart pounded and she felt goose bumps erupt up her spine at this intimate
gesture.

“No, I don't,” Harry shook his head. “I think it's cool.”

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. “You think my scar is cool?”

“Yeah, I do. When I was little, the only thing I liked about myself was my scar; I thought it
made me different and special. I guess I have an affinity for imperfections.”

“Well, your scar *is* cool, but it's not what makes you different and special to me,
it's just another part of you,” Hermione smiled.

“And your scar is part of you as well. It's just another reminder how loyal and brave you
are. Thanks for showing it to me.”

“You're welcome,” Hermione was caught in Harry's affectionate gaze and felt herself
warmed from head to toe.

“Hey, have you shown your scar to anyone else?”

Hermione wondered if by anyone else, Harry meant Ron. She felt herself blushing, somehow she
could not imagine standing before Ron, half-dressed, showing him her scar. This was for Harry's
eyes only.

“Not really, aside from Madam Pomfrey and my parents.”

“That's good,” Harry said.

“Why is that good?” Hermione said, raising an eyebrow.

“I dunno. I suppose it feels good to know that I'm one of the few you've shown it
to.”

At that moment, Harry's stomach gave a loud growl. “Hey, do you want some dinner? I'm
kind of hungry.”

“Sure,” Hermione agreed.

“I'll go to the kitchen and make something quick - see you in a bit.” Harry got up from the
chair and left the room.

Hermione flopped into the chair that Harry had just vacated, reflecting on what had just
happened. She felt good that Harry finally opened up to her a little about Sirius and what happened
that day two years ago and in return, she revealed her scar. And what's more, he liked it.
Hermione traced her scar and remembered the feel of Harry's fingers on her bare skin, so close
to her heart.

She wondered how he just knew that's what she needed from him, his touch and approval. She
had always thought her scar was ugly and that if she ever showed it to a boyfriend, that he might
be turned off. But Harry saw it, accepted it as part of her, and it was therefore special.

fin

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