Disclaimer: characters belong to JKR and Warner Bros.

PROLUGE

The war is over, thanks in a large part to the efforts of Harry Potter, and the sacrifices of many people. But war never passes without loss, and by the time it is all finished, and the rubble is cleared from everybody's lives, empty holes are left where friends once were, leaving gaping blackness where laughter and love once was.

Harry Potter truly believes that he has lost everything. At seventeen, he is a wounded, battle-scarred hero, one who has saved many lives, and yet doesn't feel as if what he has won is truly worth what he lost to get there.

He has emerged victorius from the final battle with Voldemort, to the cheers of those who survived alongside him, the sweet taste of victory as bitter as ashes in his mouth.

He wanted to hears his friends voices raised amongst the cheering crowd, wanted to hear his godfather, his parents, his old Headmaster.

He wanted to see Remus smiling up at him by Sirius' side, to see the Weasley's grinning and waving, and to watch as the twins let off Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes fireworks for him.

Their faces, however, were all conspicuously absent from the crowd that greeted him, and rather than rejoicing like he knew he should be, he felt like weeping.

Now he was going to give it all up. He had done enough, they agreed, to deserve happiness that he could not receive in the world they were working so hard to rebuild, and they knew that there was no way that they could give it to him here.

Just one drink, he was told, and his happiest dreams would become his reality, while his body would lay protected in a world that didn't need him anymore.

Just one drink.