Harry Potter One Shots

Fine Line // g.w.

summary / this is the story of the ups and down of George & Y/N, two lovers with shattered hearts and infinite love for one another.

word count / 1.8k

warnings / arguing, alludes to sex. mentions of death, blood and violence (memories of the war).

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The music played softly from the record player in the corner, a slow song with sultry piano and soft horns, a feminine voice sang a jazz tune overtop. Clothes were discarded across the carpet flooring of the flat, leggings and trousers haphazardly draped across the coffee table. The lighting was dim, a warmly lit lamp illuminating the room, dancing softly over the features of the two lovers on the couch.

George laid in his boxers, his back against the couch with his arm thrown behind his head. Y/N's head laid in his lap, she was clad in his tee shirt, tucked up under a thin blanket as George's large hand brushed through her hair. She sighed contently as she mindlessly traced patterns into George's thigh. He let his eyes flutter shut, trusting his surroundings enough to feel vulnerable without fear he would be betrayed.

Y/N turned to face George, looking up at him lovingly through her lashes. She reached up to comb through soft, ginger hairs that had gone astray, crowning his head. She giggled softly as they flew back into place right after she smoothed them down. George grabbed her hand as she pulled it back, holding it softly and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles. She blinked up at him, keeping her hand in place and cupping his face in her hands, thumbing over his jawline where stubble began to grow.

To any passerby, the scene was romantic and lovely, two lovers basking in each other's embrace after a night of passion. But that wasn't the case. They had a night of passion, that much was true, but it followed a disgusting and harsh argument.

"You're insufferable," Y/N grumbled, "Patronizing and arrogant."

George roughly gripped his ginger hair in his fingers, tugging lightly as his blood boiled. Y/N was scurrying around the flat, gathering personal items and shoving them messily into a suitcase.

"Merlin, like you're one to talk." George spat.

Y/N stopped dead in her tracks, turning on her heel to face her boyfriend with a harsh glare. She chewed on her bottom lip, her fists clenching as she wracked her brain recklessly for something to spit back at him.

They had spent a night out at the pub with their friends, Fred, Angelina, Lee and Katie. It was something they did quite often ever since they left Hogwarts, promising to stay in touch. In the beginning, right after the war, it was nice, a refreshing reminder that they were all safe, alive, and happy. But their joyous tradition soon turned dark.

Y/N struggled with the aftermath of the war, being a healer, she saw the casualties daily. She dreamt of blood and violence, her visions were filled with flashes of green, missing limbs and the coldness in one's eyes as they faded to darkness. It grew worse the more time went on, it pained her to see her everyone moving on so easily, seemingly forgetting just how tragic it was. Deep down, she knew they were coping, healing, doing their best to move on and not dwell. But it was harder for her, it plagued her every thought until she couldn't think straight.

George struggled too, he had almost lost his brother, his best friend, but he didn't have the memory of Fred's broken body playing like a broken record in his mind, for he saw him everyday since then, smiling and alive. George and Fred ran a joke shop for Merlin's sake, and their days were filled with laughter. He would often return home to Y/N, a smile evident on his face from a lively day of working with Fred and chatting with young customers who had the same mischievous glint in their eye that he had as a child.