Harry and Ginny's friendship managed to remain intact after that night, but the guilt he felt every time he saw her never seemed to fade. She never held it against him as he saw the pity written on her face every time he was around Hermione, and by the end of the year, she had moved on and began dating someone in her own year, leaving Harry to his own heartache going into his seventh year.

Harry sat trying to study at the library, drowning in the weight of his seventh year classes, but his focused struggled as his eyes drifted up towards the table across the room. Hermione sat surrounded by mountains of books and so much paper that you couldn't see the table underneath it all. Three quills stood tall in their ink wells as she color coded her notes and shifted from paper to paper and book to book.

Hermione's brow furrowed as she read over a section of one of the books in front of her. Harry couldn't read the title as she closed the book marked page and shoved it aside, but unsurprisingly, it was a couple of inches thick and was still on the smaller side in her pile. A knowing smirked played on his face as he observed her tongue sneaked out of the corner of her mouth as she scribbled more notes.

"Harry!"

Harry jumped in his seat and worked to make it look like he was busy working instead of staring at Hermione. Grant slid into the seat across from him, blocking Hermione from his view, as he looked up from the booking.

"How's it going?" Grant asked.

"I recant ever saying classes were hard over the past six years," joked Harry, hoping to cover up his lack of studying. "None were as complicated as this year."

"Don't worry. You'll be fine."

"Yeah. Tell that to Hermione. She's been here longer than I have."

Grant glanced back over his shoulder at his girlfriend as she lifted various books and papers in search of something. He chuckled as he responded, "She's kind of freaking out, isn't she?" Harry saw the smitten fall across Grant's face as he watched her work. One thing Grant wasn't good at was hiding his thoughts and feelings about things, and as if he realized Harry could see his heart, Grant pressed on, "She's just freaking out about this year because they'll determine her future. Or well, I should say they could limit her future."

Harry shook his head and went back to looking at his book. "Nothing could limit that girl even if it was the sole mission in someone's life."

"Yeah…" Harry chanced a quick glance up and once again saw Grant longing over Hermione. The shear love glistening in Grant's eyes was what had always prevented Harry from stealing her back.

As much as he liked Hermione, he had grown to admire and respect Grant over the years. He was a great guy and had never treated her as anything less than utmost respect and love. Grant had — begrudgingly sometimes — become one of Harry's good friends, and that stopped him from trying to win Hermione back. He had lost her the day Grant had asked her to the Yule Ball, and he respected Grant too much to ruin it no matter how much he loved her.

"Why don't you join her instead of sitting here watching her?" Harry suggested.

Grant turned around and focused on Harry. "I actually came here to talk to you." He finally said, getting to why he came here.

"Me?"

"Yeah. I need your help." Without giving Harry time to respond, Grant reached into his bag under the table and threw a box onto the table between them.

Harry fought back the emotions welling up inside him as he looked down at the red package. The beast inside him roared its objections as Harry picked up the box. His fingers grazed across the soft velvet covering the surface of the box.

Time seemed to slow down as Harry looked over the box. His hand shook as he snapped the lid open.

His heart dropped as he swallowed back the emotions as he looked inside. The light above glistened in the stone, highlighting every chisel and defining quality. The silky black cushion inside made the stone look flawless and perfect in its snug home. Hermione would love it.

Harry took a deep breath and shoved the emotions boiling in his throat down before speaking, "Wow, Grant. She'll love it."

"You think so? I'm a bit nervous because I wasn't really sure if it was the right one. I mean I talked to a number of jewelers, but it seemed the more they said the more I got confused. They kept asking me about these three C's: Cut — that one was easy to understand since they just meant the stones shape, Color — I still don't get it; they're all clear. Never figured out what color they meant but they said this one had good color, and cl…Clerical…No, no, no… Clouring…. Clarity. That's it. Clarity which I understand in theory they all have a different level of fogginess to them, but I honestly couldn't really tell the difference."

Harry forced a smile and interrupted his rant, "She'll love it."

He closed the box and handed it back to Grant. "Thanks. I hope so."

Harry went back to work unsure of what else to say. He should've pressed Grant with questions — and oh did he have questions. When had he decided to propose to Hermione? Had they discussed this before or was he going off a whim? How had Harry never heard them discuss marriage before? Why hadn't he told Harry he was thinking about it? But those weren't the questions you asked after someone tells you they're proposing to your best friend.

"I was going to tell you," explained Grant as if knowing what Harry had been thinking, "But I needed to know for sure this is what I wanted. Once I started shopping for a ring, I knew there was no turning back." He paused for a second causing Harry to look up to see if Grant was waiting for a response. He wasn't and appeared to be searching for the right words to say next, continuing when he found them, "I know this is what you want, but I need your help."

Harry took the opportunity to say something, "With what?"

"I don't know how to ask and was hoping to know if you had any ideas." Grant stood up and shouldered his bag. "I need them right now obviously, but if I could recruit some help from you, it'd be swell."

Harry looked over at Hermione leaning over her notes. Her hair fell gracefully in front of her face, hiding pieces of her face behind it, but her eyes managed to shine through the gaps. Bumps crawled over his skin as a wave of chills ran from his toes to his head. The image of the ring shattered the world around him, and he swore his heart had stopped in this moment.

"Yeah," Harry choked out finally, "I can help."

Harry heard Grant mumble something and felt someone clapped him on his back, but it sounded as hollow as someone talking to him underwater while his body barely registered that clap as more than someone grazing past him in a store.

Someone had pushed him in to the Black Lake, and instead of swimming to shore, he just felt the water engulf him in the depths of its despair.

Harry sat under a tree by the Black Lake. He lounged in a sweatshirt and jeans, having forsaken his wizard robes for a more relaxed and warmer attire. A flame flickered to life at the end of his wand. He extinguished the flame seconds later before making a nearby stick dance in front of him.

He looked at his watch and quickly threw the stick aside. He bustled around the area he'd been sitting in and laid out a blanket with a couple of bottles of butterbeer. "Accio jars." He whispered into the night.

Moments later the jars were scattered around the small nook in the trees, and Harry carried a flame to each one. He heard voices coming as he screwed on the last jar lid. Collecting up his wand, he disappeared into the darkness.

He stood at the top of the castle, looking back at the spot he'd just left. The grounds were quiet. It was peaceful, and he could see the flames dancing in their jars down by the lake where he had set them up.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" A voice asked from behind him.

"Do what?" He retorted without turning around.

Ginny walked up beside him as an outburst of giggles erupted into the night air. "Torture yourself by watching."

Harry didn't say anything. No words could really explain why he did what he did. Nothing quite articulated what he felt every time he saw her with him. Everything simply fell short in trying to convey what he was thinking as he looked out over the grounds.

"It's beautiful." She pressed on.

"Thanks." Harry's words were hollow and felt dead every time he spoke.

"It's perfect, Harry. She'll love it."

"Not quite." He challenged.

It was his idea to propose to her outside. He picked the jars of fire as it had become a bit of a signature for Hermione over the years. She was also probably one of the few that knew how to create the flame, but Harry had spent the last few weeks learning how to light it. He wasn't as good at it as she was. The jars were a hinderance, but the only way he could manage to keep them lit. Hermione could carry the flame in her hand or conjure it to float above hard surfaces. He wasn't quite that skilled yet, but he was pretty proud of learning it.

This was the proposal he'd dream of with her. He knew she'd love it, but there was one detail he'd left out because he wasn't willing to let go of it. It wouldn't matter in the grand scheme of things; she wouldn't notice the difference with Grant so he'd neglected to include it in the plan. Still it was as close to perfect as he could get it.

"You know, you're too good for her." Ginny said, flatly. Harry opened his mouth to challenge her statement, but she kept talking before he could, "Don't. She's not better than you and you aren't out of her league, but you deserve someone who knows how you feel about them."

Harry turned toward her, pulling his gaze from the spot from the first time. "That's my fault though. Not hers. I never even tried."

"We broke up because I watched you pine for her every day. Every time I looked at you I saw how much you loved her — goodness, you might as well having been holding a sign somedays. She has to have known."

"But I let her get away. I never fought for her; I just let her get swept away by him."

He looked back at the flames dancing as a scream of joy echoed across the ground. He could just make out the shadow of Hermione throwing herself on Grant in excitement. He barely heard her cry yes, but it was enough to finish driving the stake into his heart.

Ginny gave a half smile at Harry before she turned to walk away. Pausing, she touched his shoulder and said, "It should be you down there." She swept away, leaving Harry alone to his thoughts.

A warm tear had escaped his shields under the truth of her words. He meant to respond to her, wanted to respond to her, but his voice was caught and the words wouldn't come out. He closed his eyes as the gravity of the night took hold.

"I know." Harry managed to whisper back to no one.

He released the magic keeping the jars aflame and headed back to the dormitory to fake his congratulations to his best friend.