Charlie rolled over and propped himself up on one elbow, allowing his eyes and his free hand to wander over the naked woman at his side. He reached up with one broad finger and smoothed away a few strands of sweat-slicked hair from her forehead.

Her eyes were half-closed, her smile knowing and replete, and her breathing was only just returning to normal.

He let his finger trace a line down her cheek, the side of her neck and down to brush against the sensitive skin at the side of her breast, making it pebble anew into goosebumps. The previously steadying rise and fall of her breasts faltered for a second before she, too, rolled onto her side, turning her back to him and fumbling to pull up the covers they had long since kicked aside.

"Hermione?" His voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

She turned back to face him, her body swaddled in layers of bedding all the way up to her armpits. "You were staring," she offered by way of explanation.

"Can't help it, beautiful," Charlie admitted.

"You were staring at the scar," she protested, her voice beginning to rise.

"I was staring at your breasts," Charlie answered. "It's a man thing." He reached over and pulled gently at the sheet until she let go, allowing him to move it back down to her waist. He rolled on top of her, one hair-roughened thigh easing her legs further apart as he adopted a push-up stance with his upper body that allowed him to look down into her eyes. "Look at me, Hermione," he requested.

Her eyes lifted to his.

"Look at my left shoulder. Look at my right arm just above the elbow. Look at my hands."

He watched her eyes dart to the locations he had indicated and waited for them to return to his own. "What do you see?"

"Burns," Hermione admitted.

"Feel the back of my thigh."

Hermione's hand stretched downward until she found the jagged hairless line that marked where he, too, had been cursed.

"And do you find that repulsive?" he asked.

Hermione's face twisted into a frown. "No," she admitted and Charlie cut in before the 'but' that he could tell was on its way.

"Then why would you think I'd be shallow enough to give a damn about this?" He bent his elbows and pressed his lips against the topmost end of the scar between Hermione's breasts. He lifted his torso a fraction of an inch and slid down her body with teasing slowness. "Do you think it bothers me?" he asked, once more kissing the line of puckered flesh. "Do you think if I had a choice..." His head dipped again, as he placed kiss after kiss on the white skin that stood out against the pale gold of her otherwise tanned flesh. "...I would choose some other woman just because her skin is freakishly unblemished? Life happens to us all, Hermione." He looked her straight in the eye. "I'm here with you because of who you are on the inside. I'm here with you because you are the sort of person who would follow a friend into trouble, because you would take on dark wizards with far more experience than you had, because you always want to do what's right, no matter the odds and if that means you pick up a few scars along the way, then that's just part of the package." He watched as her eyes grew bright with unshed tears. "You're right. It's not pretty, but unless there's some deeper damage that might eventually take you away from me, it's not important... and if I ever meet this Adrian Pucey character he's going to be damn lucky to get away with less than a broken jaw."

Her laughter forced the tears to overflow and Charlie supported himself on one arm as he used his other thumb to wipe the drops from her cheeks. "Didn't Ron tell you this?" he asked softly.

Hermione's body convulsed a couple of times as she fought away tears and laughter until she was able to answer. "Ron had a thing about anyone seeing his arm. We always did it with the lights out."