Owl Post

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter. This is an amateur, non-profit work.
A/N: The rating is for language, though there are references to male/male sexual acts. Thanks for reading!

Pairing: George/Harry
Prompts: Owl Post, "You're in love with the idea of love."
Theme: Ginny Weasley, born 11 August, 1981.

Dear Harry,

So Ginny left you. So what? It's been ages.

If you carry on pouting all the time, your face will stick that way, you know.

— George

George,

Sorry, but kindly fuck off. Really not in the mood for this.

— Harry

Dearest Saviour,

Well!

Is that any way for a hero to talk? Is that how you answer all of your fan mail? I can just picture some poor little wide-eyed hero worshipper in Some Place With a Lot of L's and Y's and Very Few Vowels, Wales, brimming with glee as she opens a letter from the Harry Potter, only to find a bit of profanity. Not even so much as an autographed photo. Shocking.

I have half a mind to tell Hermione what you are up to, sir! No doubt she'd set up some cleverly named organisation to benefit the psychological wellbeing of the young people whose spirits you've crushed.

Only, I don't want her pestering me to join. Hmm. Tricky.

I suppose the unfortunate wretches shall have to fend for themselves. Just as well, really. That sort of thing builds character.

— George

PS: It was bound to end sometime, mate.

Dear Deranged Fan,

Please find the enclosed autographed photo.

Better?

— The Harry Potter

PS: It was bound to end sometime? What is that supposed to mean?

Dear Harry,

Yes, much better, thank you. Now I have a picture to look at when I want to wa—err, I mean, when I want to imagine your charming face for purely innocent reasons. Reasons that in no way involve anything naughty. Honest.

Angelically Yours,

George

PS: It only means that you weren't that interested in her. At least, not after the initial thrill of being back together after the war wore off. You were interested in what she represented.

George,

Ugh. Enough with the post-scripts and fake flirting. What is it that Ginny represented, in your apparently expert opinion?

— Harry

Dear Harry,

Love.

That wasn't me using a pet name; it was me answering your question. She represented love, and you're in love with the idea of love. Hmm, how many times can I use the word "love" in one paragraph? Love, love, love.

You have this image in your mind of a perfect little family. Hell, you've probably even already named your hypothetical children.

I can't say that I blame you, given your experiences of family life as a child, but see, the thing is…life is messy. No one is ever going to be able to live up to the dream you've built up, just as the person you truly are couldn't live up to Ginny's idealised vision of The Harry Potter. People are flawed.

Hmm, this letter is getting too serious. Can't have that. I'm supposed to be making you smile, not doing horrible, unspeakable things like telling the truth.

Balls.

There, that's better. Nothing like the surprise mention of testicles to lower the tone, if you ask me.

— George

PS: I inserted this post-script just because you said you'd had enough of them. What can I say? I'm a rebel.

PPS: Who said the flirting was fake?

PPPS: Balls.

PPPPS: You and Ginny are still trying to remain friends, right? Make yourself presentable and come along to her birthday party at the Leaky Cauldron tonight. I promise to get you well and truly pissed if you do.

George,

You are making me very tempted to tell Hermione to start that cleverly named little organisation. I bet she'd be thrilled to hear that you desperately want to be the treasurer.

No one said the flirting was fake, I suppose. It's just a given, since it's, well, you. I rather hope you have better chat-up lines than implying you think of the person in question whilst you wank.

I don't know about Ginny's party. Maybe.

— Harry

Dear Harry,

A maybe! That's almost a yes. Come on, mate, you know you want to. It's been months, and the way you didn't deny any of my allegations makes me suspect that you are perhaps not as heartbroken as you seem. If you come to the party, I'll take you out when it ends and help you pull! That's a surefire way to make sure you're over the lovely Miss Weasley.

And yes, I assure you that I have plenty of chat-up lines that don't even mention wanking. Can't think of any off the top of my head, though, for some strange reason.

— George

PS: Aren't post-scripts fun?

PPS: Balls.

PPPS: Admit it: you at least cracked a smile at the "balls" thing.

PPPPS: Ha! Idle threats. Hermione would never make me treasurer of anything. She's clever, and she's met me.

George,

You'll help me pull, will you? Well, now I have to come along, if only to see what you come up with.

The road to madness is paved with post-scripts, George. Everyone knows this. But I might have laughed at the "balls" thing, just a little.

See you this evening. I'll be sure to send an owl to Hermione, so she knows to bring along a cute little "Treasurer" badge for you. We can show your mum. It'll make up for you never being Prefect or Head Boy.

— Harry

Dear Harry,

After last night, I think you should probably rescind that comment about me never being Head Boy.

Told you I'd help you pull.

— George

Dear George,

Yes, well, I don't reckon your mother will be buying you a new broom or owl for that.

Unexpected as it was, I can't deny that I had a nice time. Thanks for, err, making such an effort to cheer me up with the letters and such. Sorry for being so moody before.

See you Wednesday?

— Harry

Dear Harry,

"A nice time"? Really? You make it sound like I had you round for tea or something. What you should be saying is something like, "George, you talk too fucking much. You sound better with my cock in your mouth."

All true things, you see, and it also has the added benefit of not sounding like a letter from my Gran. Never mind that you can't actually hear me through owl post; that's just a minor detail.

I don't know if you're right about the potential lack of recognition for my accomplishments. Mum might at least cough up a Remembrall or something if you give me a glowing recommendation. Why don't you try it? I'm just going to go on an impromptu trip to Peru. No reason, really. Nothing at all to do with getting as far as possible from inevitable explosions fuelled by maternal rage.

I will definitely see you Wednesday, though.

— George

Dear George,

You talk too fucking much. You sound better with my cock in your mouth.

— Harry

PS: Balls.

The End