Harry Potter smuts And Fluffs

Neville x Harry

I suck at angst and I know it, so this was a bit of practice. If you hate this chapter let me know.

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Harry was in the kitchen of their flat cooking breakfast. It had been two years since they had graduated hogwarts, and was so happy to finally be with the love of his life.

He smiled as Neville walked into the kitchen, but it fell when he saw how distraught he looked. "Baby, what's wrong, are you okay?" Neville took a deep, steadying breath, before looking Harry in the eyes. 

"We need to talk.." Harry's heart stopped, and he nodded, turning back to the stove and turning it off, before sitting at the table with the other. "What's wrong honey?" He reached out to hold Neville's hand, but was hurt when he pulled it away.

"I.. I think we should break up…I'm sorry…" Harry began to shake. "I.. can I know why? Please, was it something I did? Can I fix it somehow?" Neville was quick to wipe those thoughts from his head. "No it's just, when two people are in love they should feel the same way about each other, right? I- I can't force anyone to be in a relationship with me."

Harry nodded, not quite hearing everything he said. "I don't understand, I love you, do you not love me?" Nevile sighed, "Of course I love you, but not the same way you love me. I'll be gone by friday." The next four days were torture for Harry, watching as Neville moved all of his thing out of every room, leaving Harry with no nothing of his. Not even a hoodie to hug at night while he was crying.

Over the next month he fell into a deep depression drinking or sleeping constantly. Rarely eating unless Hermione forced him to. The flat looked more bare than ever. Of course the Wizarding world was wondering where the boy who lived twice was, but Harry didn't care. He wanted to believe that this was all a nightmare, that he would wake up any second, and have Neville wrapped in his arms.

He stopped going out, no one except friends had seen the hide nor hair of the boy who lived for months, the only reason he went out at all was to get more liquor. 

He was caught between fantasy and reality, somehow twisting the kind way Neville had broken up with him, into one of the worst beratings he'd ever had, he found himself crying to sleep more than once over the thing imaginary Neville had said, believing they were true. Hell, he would have rather woken up in that cupboard again.

One day, on a particularly sunny day he awoke to banging on his flat door. He groaned as he heard Hermione talking through it. "Harry, come on please open up!" Harry spelled the door open, burying his face back into a pillow. "Harry, are you okay?" He looked up to see her looking down at him with concern.

"'Mione, you know I haven't been okay since he left." She frowned. "Maybe it was meant to be!" But she regretted it immediately after seeing the look on Harry's face. "So you're saying it was meant to be too? Hermione, I thought he was the one I was gonna spend my life with! I loved him with everything I had in me! But apparently he didn't love me back.." He went back to his pillow.

Hermione pulled him off the couch, and brought him to his room. She dumped him on the bed, but gasped, as tears welled in her eyes when she saw the black velvet box. "Harry! Don't tell me you were planning on proposing!" Harry laughed, though the sound was gross, and dirty instead of the one Hermione had heard since they were eleven.

"Pretty stupid, huh? I hate myself for buying that bloody ring." He glared at the box in her hand. "Harry, what do you want me to do with it?" Hermione asked, carefully plotting her words.