Engaged

Disclaimer

Chapter Seven

Truth lies at the unreachable bottom.

LUCK

Ronald Weasley had never been more pissed off in his life.

"How can you say that, Hermione?? Doesn't he mean ANYTHING to you?"

"Not after what he's done, Ron."

"You're just going to throw away your friendship because of a stupid misunderstanding?"

"There ISN'T a MISUNDERSTANDING, okay?? You SAW what he did to Darren! What is done is done. There's simply no excuse for what happened."

"But you didn't even give him a chance to explain!!"

"I DON'T THINK THERE ARE ANY ACCEPTABLE EXCUSES TO WHAT HE'S DONE. DO YOU THINK WHAT HE'S DONE CAN BE EXCUSED?"

"You still don't even know half the story!"

"And maybe I don't want to listen to any more explanations! Maybe I'm tired of his outbursts! Maybe I'm sick of his rudeness! He's not the same person anymore, Ron. Don't you see that?"

"But he is! He's still Harry Potter!! He'll always be Harry Potter! And maybe it was Darren's fault -"

"HOW DARE YOU TRY TO BLAME DARREN FOR WHAT'S HAPPENED. HARRY BEAT HIM UP, FOR CHRISSAKE! AND YOU'RE STILL TRYING TO DEFEND HIM?? DARREN HAD TO GO TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM!! THAT'S HOW BADLY HE WAS HURT, RON. I CAN'T IMAGINE HIM DOING ANYTHING TO DESERVE THAT KIND OF TREATMENT -"

"God, Just LISTEN TO YOURSELF!! All you talk about is Darren, Darren, DARREN!! I'm sick of it, Hermione!! And you don't even understand Harry at ALL! To think you're his BEST FRIEND!! Haven't you noticed why he's acting so upset?? Don't you know anything?"

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!! GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!! I DON'T WANT TO LISTEN TO YOU!!"

Ron's face turned the shade of his flaming hair. For a second, he considered hexing Hermione. He couldn't believe what she was saying. He couldn't believe Harry, either. He was just so mad. How could people be so STUPID? So blind?

They stood glaring at each other, across the glass table placed in the center of the living room. They were no longer sitting. Ron had arrived at Hermione's flat for one sole purpose, and he had long forgotten what it was. Their conversation was turning downright ugly, and neither could do anything to stop it. Anger had made them sightless, only so they could point an accusing finger to each other's noses, amidst their shouting. Hermione, who was usually calm and composed, was finally brought under a transformation. Her nostrils flared, along with her temper, and she had been shouting with the same vigor as Ron.

While Ron was having a hard time believing Hermione, she was equally disturbed. She simply couldn't comprehend why everyone was so keen on being part of Harry's allies. She had done nothing wrong; and yet the whole world was against her. Even her best friend, Ginny, had screamed at her for being a "complete and total bitch". She couldn't figure out why everyone hated Darren, either. He was polite, charming, and, naturally, perfect. There was nothing contemptible of him, but everyone seemed to despise him nonetheless. Even Ron, who was in favor of Darren in the beginning, had changed his mind. She understood Harry least of all. She had graciously forgiven him, though she admits that she had been a little too harsh, but the next second, he's turned his back on her again, and beats her fiance to pulp. Nothing seemed to make any sense.

Just as Hermione was opening her mouth to holler again, Ron delivered a slap to her face. She touched her stinging cheek in shock, gasping. The room was suddenly eerily silent.

"In case you're wondering, Harry is hurt badly. And I daresay that it's your fault completely."

Hermione's mouth slacked a little.

"What happened?"

Ron gave her an irritable look, before casting his eyes angrily at the ground.

"Don't start acting like you still care about him, Hermione."

"But, Ron-"

"You broke his heart, you know?"

Ron interrupted, looking up at her, his eyes filled with angry tears. He stared hard at Hermione, lips pressed tightly together. She only stared back, with eyes wide open, unsure of what to say. She wanted so badly to beg for her forgiveness. She wanted so badly to wrap her arms around Ron, so they could cry together. She was tired of the constant fighting. They had been the golden trio, once. She wished she could go back to those perfect days. They were never meant to be apart.

She saw the fleeting image of Harry then, sitting at the Three Broomsticks Bar after the big night of their graduation. His eyes were alight with happiness, gleaming like green emeralds. His smile was so broad; she couldn't help but smile back at him. He looked at Ron with brotherly love, then turned his eyes to rest on her. She felt important; like she finally belonged. She remembered thinking she saw something in his eyes, when he looked over at her, his smile soft and eyes tender. It was only a flash, less than a heartbeat, then it was gone.

"To us, because we were meant to be together always."

They brought up their mugs of butterbeer, in a loud cheer, and their glasses crashed together, so that it's contents spilled on the table. They laughed, then slumped in their seats, taking a huge gulp out of their drinks. Hermione couldn't help but wonder why Harry had been staring at her as he said those words. Her heart was fluttering, but she had ignored it. The phrase repeated in her head now, resounding.

Together always.

"I'm sorry,"

Hermione whispered, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

Ron didn't respond. He just stared at her without really seeing, blinking back his tears.

"You should be saying that to Harry."

Then he apparated, vanishing into thin air.

It was the solitude that caused the downpour of tears.

---

Harry Potter slumped in his seat, sighing.

"This is just great. Now on top of my wounded pride, there's my wounded arm."

Ginny looked at him without much sympathy.

"You can only blame yourself, idiot." George pointed out, earning a laugh from Fred. When they saw the frown on Ginny's face, their laughter died immediately.

"Sorry." Fred and George mumbled in unison, casting their eyes to the floor. Then they burst out laughing again, unable to contain themselves.

Harry pretended not to notice, and Ginny gave him a sidelong glance. Nothing could bother him anymore. He had hit rock bottom. He shrugged, then reached for another biscuit, with his good hand. Ginny leaned forward, intending to get the biscuit for Harry herself.

"I don't need help, thanks," Harry snapped, and Ginny shrank back into her seat, crossing her arms almost protectively over her stomach.

"Have it your way, Potter. But remember, I did bake them."

His mood was still unstable, due to the rather disconcerting events last night. Auhurel was already home, dismissed by Harry with a half-hearted thanks. He had slept over at the Weasley residence, while the hired house elves cleaned up his wreckage. He could go home, and spend the rest of the days in solitary. But right now, he preferred sitting here at the dining table, surrounded by a bunch of redhead goons.

There was the faint sound of someone entering the house, and Ron's face appeared at the entrance to the dining room. He walked in silently, his face blank. He took a seat beside Ginny, and sighed heavily. He looked at Harry, lips parted open to speak.

"You really blew it this time."

Everyone's face turned towards Harry, anticipating his reaction.

He shrugged again.

"I know."

Ginny threw her hands up.

"That's it, then? You're going to leave it at that? In case you haven't realized, Harry, you do have a life to return to. You can't sit at this table forever and sulk about Hermione."

"Thanks for the reminder, genius, but I think I knew that." Harry spat irritably, raking his hand through his black hair.

"Why don't you get on with it and bloody tell her that you love her?" Fred asked.

Harry seemed to slide lower in his seat.

"Doesn't matter. Too late now."

"I can't believe that just came from you, Harry Potter. Are you telling me that you're a quitter?" Ginny exclaimed, now pacing front and back in the room.

"No. I'm just telling you that I'm tired. She's made it clear that she harbors no feelings for me whatsoever, and their wedding is only two weeks away. The only sensible thing to do would be to return to my life."

"And spend the rest of it as a pathetic little man who couldn't even confess his own feelings to his best friend?" Ginny retorted, her voice shrill.

"What do you suggest I do? She won't even answer my goddamn call! If I show up at her door, she's only going to slam the damn thing in my face! She wanted me put away in prison. I've lost her trust. I've lost her everything."

I've lost her.

"You're a man, Harry. Don't you know how to fight?"

"She doesn't want to listen to me anymore. She simply doesn't give a shit. She's so smitten with that Darren wanker, it's like she's lost her mind."

"I don't think so," Fred interrupted calmly. "Put yourself in her position. She doesn't know why you hate Darren so much. She doesn't understand why you're so intent on punching the lights out of the wanker. She doesn't know the truth behind why you've leapt on Darren like a madman. She doesn't know anything, really. Hermione is a sensible woman. She knows what's right; but the only facts she sees points only to you acting like a lunatic."

"You know, Fred's got a point," Ginny admitted, hoping this would encourage Harry.

"For once," George snorted, rolling his eyes.

"That doesn't mean anything. Nothing's going to change if she knew. She's going to forgive me, sure, and we'll just go back to being friends. Don't you people get it? I was always just a friend to her. And that's all I'll ever be. So I might as well just get over it and just be happy for her."

Ginny got up from her seat, standing up and staring straight into Harry's eyes. "If that's your decision, it's fine with me. I'm not the one throwing my life away. Some things were meant to be, Harry. Why don't you figure that one out?"

"I'm off to bed," she announced, looking away from Harry. "Good night."

Ginny walked out of the room, her footsteps faintly echoing on the stairs.

---

Harry felt ridiculously cheap as he walked down the street, holding a bouquet of roses in his hand. It was so clichéd, to be begging for forgiveness. A part of him knew that it was something he had to do; yet he felt his rage bubbling beneath his skin. The unfairness of it all. This was the only reality that was living, and he was part of the nightmarish game.

He rounded a corner, wondering what he was to say when he saw her. She'd probably slam the door right at his face. He didn't know if he could take it for another second. He had to see her. Every minute he spent away from her was torture. She was the magnet, and he was a succumbing piece of iron. And what of it? He wasn't going to get what he wanted. It was solely for the purpose to be able to claim, "at least I tried."

Harry's arm had began to tingle from the cold, and his shoulders trembled in fatigue and pain. He stopped in front of the building, his breath coming in short little puffs. White smoke blew out from his mouth, and the tip of his nose was frozen red. His cheeks were flushed. He caught a shadow of a figure exiting the lift.

Darren.

He ducked behind the door in a swift motion, hoping the mule hadn't spotted him. He could feel his face growing hot with the magnitude of his anger. That man was the man that ruined his entire fucked up life. And how dare he? He was only an outsider, not part of the triangle that the trio had formed. Another added angle would make it a quadrilateral. But then again, perhaps Darren had already replaced Harry's spot.

There was no place for him now.

This is stupid, Harry thought angrily. Darren was heading his way. Harry could only hope that the shadows would be his temporarily sanction. Yet God was punishing him again, almost demanding that the offer of one last chance to be eliminated. Too late. Darren turned and stared straight into Harry's eyes, not bothering to mask his hatred. The only tiny pleasure Harry received was seeing Darren all bandaged up, and knowing at least he had paid back with little harm. But it still counted as something.

At this point, anything counted as something.

"What are you doing here?" Darren spat, stealing a glance at the red roses in Harry's hand.

"Hermione," Harry managed to choke, suddenly feeling very exhausted.

Darren laughed coldly.

"You can forget about it, you piece of shit," he said evenly, though his voice was edged with icy malice. "She doesn't need a murdering psycho around her."

Psycho. So that was what it all came down to. He was a dangerous threat to her. He ought to be put away in jail. Harry was silent, his gaze glued to the floor.

"Just get the hell away from here."

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He turned and walked away, listening to the sound of his heart breaking. He stopped at an alley. There would be a garbage can there. He strolled past, dumping the entire bouquet into the black plastic bag that looked like a swallowing hole. There was a triumphant air of liberation as he continued walking, knowing that somehow, by walking away, he would make everyone happy.

It didn't matter much, anyway. It was better that Darren told him to piss off, rather than Hermione.

What a piece of luck.

---

A/N:

About time I finished something, for a change.

But really, when I'm depressed, I can do whatever the fuck I want.

And gentlemen, please be more courteous towards ladies.