George always found your scars to be rather beautiful despite your judgement. He loved seeing them, touching them, kissing them.

He wanted you to feel as though you had nothing to hide. Nothing to feel insecure about.

His efforts however didn't always stick like how he wanted them to.

The two of you were sitting in bed together, with George finnicking with one of the new muggle televisions you had just bought. He was so wrapped up in the different channels that he hadn't noticed the way you were staring at your scars.

Well, until he looked to his side.

"What do you think of this.. SpongeBob-.."

He started with a grin, only for it to falter at the sight of what you were doing.

"Honey.."

He murmured, setting aside the remote as he left it on SpongeBob. He shifted to face you, quickly taking your hands in his. He observed the depressed look on your face intently.

"What's troubling you, my dear?"

".. Just-.. thinkin' bout how I look is all."

".. Your scars?"

".. Yes?"

George blinked, raising a brow. Before he let out a soft breath/laugh.

"Everyone has scars, darling. I do, Fred does.."

George started, carrying sympathy and care with each word that rolled off of his tongue.

".. They're nothing to be ashamed of. They tell a story you should be proud of, in fact."

He sighed, rubbing his hand over yours. He reached up with his free one to tuck some hair away from your face, offering a silent, gentle smile.