I don't profit from this. Thanks to JKR for letting us play in her sandbox.
He was thinking of her again.
He always did.
Somehow through the inebriated throb of his head he saw her. It was that day in the tent again. If only he'd just pulled her a little closer, kissed her, unbuttoned her shirt, tasted her.
He uncapped the bottle and took another swig. It was eleven PM in Charleston, South Carolina. Harry Potter, savior of magical Britain, and the great vanquisher, couldn't be bothered to care.
The past two years had disappeared in a haze. Everything since the battle.
He'd been dueling Voldemort when he felt it. Felt her die. He broke that moment, leveled his wand at the dark lord, and ended him. "Avada Kedavra!"
He'd woken up to the sound of celebrations ringing hollow in his ears.
For the next two years he hopped from bar to bar, city to city. The toned body of a warrior now saddled with an alcoholic's belly, a prosthesis below his left knee where a Death Eater had severed it with a Sectumsempra curse. The wizarding women he'd slept with knew the truth, to the muggle ones he was Corporal Harry Potter, decorated war hero. It didn't matter though, no amount of sex, no matter how good, could fill the hole in his heart.
He'd also busied himself with a pastime of American wizards: circle track racing. In simple terms, a fast broom on a banked track. Harry'd managed an average speed of one eighty on the legendary Gainesville superspeedway. Not bad for someone with a blood alcohol of twice the legal limit.
But no amount of booze, sex, or speed could drive her out of his mind. Caramel colored eyes, untamable hair, and just too beautiful for words. Shame she never knew it.
So the savior stood up from his curb. The liquor store was just across the road, and his bottle was dangerously close to empty.
He made his way across at nearly a stumble. Just as he passed the middle of the road, a cab-over lorry rounded the corner. Instead of slowing down, the brakes just emitted a horrendous groan.
'I'll see you soon love' were his last thoughts. Right before he was mangled to death by a forty mile per hour Mitsubishi Fuso.
((((((/))))))
"You failed me Potter." The words were accompanied by a sharp kick to the ribs.
"What the fucking shit is this?"
"You Failed." Harry's eyes snapped open. The space was white, and seemed to extend unto infinity. His only company was a well muscled man who appeared to be straight from an American action movie. The man adjusted his leather vest and ran his fingers through a head of scraggly black hair. "My name is Ross. I'm your grim reaper."
A/N
Just thought of this today, so I wrote a prologue. The time jump and first chapter are already set, but after that is up in the air. Suggestions are welcome.