The admission from him fills her chest and makes it expand with something - he is all at once so bright and hopeful and stunning that it's almost hurts to look at him - and tears gather at the corners of her eyes.

"Yes - yes, you should," she croaks out, leaning over him to press a kiss to his forehead, close to the hairline - close to the scar. "It might be the wine and the partial grading exhaustion speaking, but I am so proud of you I could kiss you, Harry Potter."