A/N—No one is allowed to bitch about long updates. Three days people, three days…quick, someone give me a high-five. No one? Fine…be that way.

Unconventional Commitments

Chapter Eleven

Ice Cream is a Girl's Best Friend

Men are the vilest creatures on the planet. They are not worthy to live any longer…

Or, such is the train of my thoughts as I divulge myself in the wonders of chocolate peanut-butter ice cream. Suddenly, I look down at my attire and realize that somewhere in the course of the past four hours I have changed into a cotton button-up nightgown that belongs in my mother's closet.

My hair is a disaster, I haven't even washed it yet today…There is something wrong with this picture! I almost appear as if I am in some sort of mourning. This isn't me…

Now thoroughly disgusted with myself, I throw the carton of ice cream aside and stalk off to my room. I am not some lovesick female that sobs into a container of ice cream. Though, I would like to point out, that I had yet to sob.

I am not pathetic. And I refuse to act as such. I mean, Harry and I were not even anything at all…I have no reason to be anything close to depressed. I finally have Harry off of my back on the whole relationship thing, I should be beyond ecstatic.

So, that's it. From now on, I am happy. So bloody happy that my face is going to hurt from smiling so much.

Now, what is the best way to feel as happy as I am forcing myself to be? I could go back to work and sic Fred and George on Harry. I think that would make me very happy indeed.

God, I'm confused.

I wander back to the kitchen and throw myself in the chair. As I make a grab for the ice cream once more, the front door opens. I tilt my chair back, Hermione is here.

"Ginny?" she calls.

"In here, 'Mione."

She walks into the kitchen and looks nearly as disgusted as I feel. "Are you dying?"

I stare down into the ice cream, "Not to my knowledge, no."

"Then what excuse could you possibly have to present this overly-pathetic scene?"

I sigh and push the ice cream back away with reluctance.

"C'mon, Ginny, you are the last person that I expected to find in the clichéd position of sobbing over junk food."

"I was not crying."

"You might as well have been."

I shrug before standing. "I think that I'm going to go take a shower."

"All right," Hermione agrees, "but do make sure that afterwards you put on something…normal. Where did you get that thing anyway?"

"Mum gave it to me."

She rolls her eyes, "Well, she gives you all those jumpers as well, but I never see you wearing them."

I glare and walk out of the room. Frankly though, I'm surprised that I didn't think of taking a shower before. I adore showers…the fresh-clean feeling that you get afterwards is unbeatable. This is why I normally look for excuses to take more than one a day.

Unfortunately, this habit leads to rather expensive water bills…oh well. Hermione insists on turning on every light in the apartment at all times, I take long and multiple showers. It all evens out. It took me forever to get used to Muggle billing systems, as well. Hermione must have explained to me six dozen times why we have to pay for things like water and lighting. Yet another reason to live in the Wizarding World, I reasoned to her. Oh well. You get used to it after a while, I suppose.

After wringing out my damp hair with a towel, I change into "normal" clothes before going back out to the living room, where I know that Hermione will be waiting. If she left work to come talk to me, there's little chance of her leaving until she gets her lecture out.

Speaking of work…eh, not like Weasley's Wizard Wheezes is especially dear to me. What are Fred and George going to do, fire me? Yeah, that'd go over well with Mum.

Hermione is sitting in a chair in her "professional" pose. You know; the one that is supposed to intimidate you, but really just makes you want to laugh. I, however, smartly resist the urge to snicker, and sit opposite of her.

"Ginny," she begins as she clamps her hands together; "I had a discussion with Harry this morning."

"Really?" I say with feigned curiosity, "how intriguing. Do tell more."

She purses her lips together. "Do not simulate ignorance; you know very well why I wish to speak with you. I am missing a meeting, you know."

"That is horrid, Hermione. I don't want to lecture you, but work is extremely important. And getting ahead as a woman in the business world is no easy task, skiving off meetings to come have girl-chat with me is simply irresponsible."

She starts to laugh, but then catches herself. Covering herself by clearing her throat, she continues. "I warned you of this, Ginny. Now poor Harry is heartbroken and you are—"

"Pitifully moping about the house?"

She takes a moment to consider this. Could it be that this is, for once, not floozy Ginny's fault? Shock of the century…

"I'm being judgmental, aren't I?"

"Just a touch so. I didn't break Harry's heart, 'Mione…at least, not purposefully. I cannot help it that the boy is emotionally unstable."

"He said that you were 'frolicking' with Dean Thomas."

"He actually used the word frolicking?"

"Yes."

"Wow…Should I go find some bunny ears to wear? I mean, I wasn't aware that people actually use that word." She shrugs. "Listen, Harry picked the wrong time to walk into the coffee shop, and the wrong conclusion to jump to. Yes, I was with Dean…but because he asked me out to breakfast so that he could apologize to me. I was leaving, went to give him a hug before I left, and that is the moment that Harry walked in."

"Right when you were hugging Dean?"

"Yes. And then he stormed out in a tiff."

"How…passé."

"See, that's what I thought. Very movie-ish, right?" A long pause ensues. "So…what should I do then?"

"Ginny," Hermione sighs, "last night I asked Ron if it was all right for me to leave my toothbrush at his flat, and he looked as though he was about to cry from anguish. I am really the wrong person to come to for relationship advice. I wish you luck, but I really should get back to work."

"Right. Well, I'll see you tonight then."

"You aren't going out?"

"I have intentions of moving off the couch."

"All right, then. Goodbye, Ginny."

"Later."

I really meant it when I said that I had no intentions of moving off of the couch. Because, it is now three hours later, and I am still here…

I raise my arm up, just to make sure that I still can.

This is, quite possibly, more pathetic than the ice cream and nightgown stage. Wonder when Hermione will come back…

I am contemplating the possibility of going out, when there is a knock on the door. Now, this leads to a dilemma, because to see who is at the door would require me to actually get up…but I am extremely bored, and even if it is a door-to-door salesman, the company would still be nice.

My boredom wins out as I drag myself to the door. I open it up, and it's Harry. Of course, this is the next part of any romantic comedy worth its salt. He is here to apologize for being rash, it is my duty to forgive him, and then we shall kiss.

Next thing you know we'll be married.

"Harry," I acknowledge shortly.

"Ginny," he responds. "Are you busy?"

"As a matter of fact I am. Being the typical all-around slag, I am, of course, in the middle of an afternoon delight. Drop by later, I may be able to squeeze you in."

"I never thought that you were a slag…"

"Oh, so that's why you thought that I would be with you in the morning, and then on the verge of sleeping with Dean a few hours later. That makes perfect sense, thanks so much for clearing it up."

"Well what would you have thought?"

"One, I would have gave you the benefit of a doubt. Two, I would have realized that I have no claims on you. We are not anything, Harry, besides friends that ended up having an unusual one-night-stand. Even if I were messing around with Dean—which I am not—then that would be no business of yours."

"So that is what you think of me then? I'm just that drunken mistake that you made?"

"Oh, God, Harry, please don't be so melodramatic. What do you want? You want me to suddenly and uncharacteristically fall in love with you? You told me that you liked me…well, obviously not. You like some version of me that you imagined in your mind. If you liked me then you would not even contemplate the idea of you and me going out. I know how the story goes…we would go out, have a bit of fun, and then break up. That's how it always goes; there is no point to the process. It only wastes time and emotions."

"When did you become such the pessimist on relationships?"

"Since always."

"That isn't what I remember…"

"Harry, what you remember is some lovesick eleven-year-old who worshipped the ground that you walked on. You know what I remember? I remember fantasizing about this hero, in the form of the scrawny Boy-Who-Lived, coming and whisking me away to my happily ever after. But I grew up, and grew out of that. And that is, in part, thanks to you. I'm not trying to make you feel guilty or anything of the sort, but you ignored me whenever possible, and were embarrassed by the attentions that I attempted to give to you. In all honesty, I really thank you for it, because living for the considerations of a man is a useless existence."

"There is a difference though," Harry says after a moment, "between living for the considerations of a man, and disregarding them all together…"

"And that is when we get to The Dean Thomas Fiasco, as I have come to know it. I really liked Dean, you know. He…replaced you in my mind. I had become somewhat of a cynic before Dean, but after…after he left so abruptly, and gave up on me so quickly…I became much more contemptuous."

"That's sad, Ginny," he bluntly observes.

I shrug. "Yeah, well that's life."

"I want for you to give me a chance. I am not the same fool that was embarrassed by the act of you liking him…"

"You aren't listening, Harry. I don't think that I can. There are those who are perfectly fine with being smothered by a relationship…and then there's me."

"I like you though, Gin. Even with the relationship phobia, lose tendencies, the excessive drinking, and the temper. And I'm not asking for any sort of 'smothering' relationship. Jesus, I'm not some needy child, you know. And I'm not asking you to change—"

"But you are. If you want me to be your girlfriend, then you are asking me to change."

He sighs. "Well what do you want from me, then?"

"I don't want anything from you, Harry. I just don't need someone to like me in spite of the bad points…I need someone to like me because of things. I know my faults all too well, having you list them off for me and then attempting to start some sort of connection immediately after is ludicrous."

"So I-I guess I should go then…"

"If you want to."

He gives me an almost painful look. "Goodbye, Ginny."

I close the door and lean back against it. "Goodbye, Harry."

A/N—Hmm…well that wasn't that humorous. There will be less angst sometime in the future. And, yes, I am being purposely vague, because I have no clue when, lol. But y'all need to need to review, because that was a damn quick update, lol! Still waiting for someone to high-five me by the way...

Oh, and RussellGrl15 and RonandHerm4eva get cyber-cookies for whining. Lol, I think that imaginary bonus points are a perfectly suitable prize.