Muggle Vices

Disclaimer: I do not own
Harry Potter. Nor do I profit from the writing and posting of this
fiction.

Author's Note: This is the
end. I'm done with this story, mainly because it's been on my plate
too long. It's started to mold. Eww. Lol, well I hope you enjoy.

The End

“I can't help you
fix yourself, but at least I can say I tried.” Harry whispered
to the man lying prone on the hospital bed. He felt a tear slid down
his cheek and watch it land on the relaxed face making it look as if
it was crying too.

He sat
there for while, gazing down into a face that he fell in love with, a
face that made his day brighter just by being there. A face that now
made him as mad as is did sad. He could only wish that face could
have looked into a mirror and loved itself half as much. His
mind replayed numerous scenes of the struggles.

~*~

“You
are weak, Potter. You need to learn when to let go.” The sigh
that escaped his lips sounded tired and drawn out. “You can't
save everyone, hero.” Draco rushed out of the house slamming
the door behind him.

He
shook his head, eyes locked on the door as if willing it to reopen.
The anger just drained out of him and left behind a cold agony.

“My
weakness is that I care too much.”

~*~

“Harry,
what the hell is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?”

“I'm
drunk and I'm feeling down and I just wanna be alone. I'm pissed cuz
you came around. Why don't you just go home?!” He threw the
bottle in his hand against the wall, just inches from where Herminone
stood. Harry waited until he heard the scurry of foot steps
retreating before sinking to the floor in sobs.

~*~

“I
don't understand, he's quit. He's sober. Why should this happen to
him now?” His voice was hoarse, his eyes red rimmed.

The
doctor shrugged, his face sympathetic. “It just happens like
that sometimes.” He sighed. “And our scars remind us that
the past is real.” He turned and left the room, shoulders
hunched as if he carried the weight of the world on them.

~*~

He
looked down at the man laying there, without a chance in the world.
He feel the tears slipping down his cheeks but made no move to wipe
them away. Instead he watched them fall on the relaxed face making it
look as if the man was crying with him. “I'm sorry,” he
whispered the words, “but I gotta move on with my own life.”

Author's
Note: Yes, I know it's very short. And it's really inconclusive. But
I like it like this. Sorry to those of you who are disappointed with
it, but thanks for reading anyway.

Song:
Papa Roach: Scars