6 | Plagued by what ifs

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The tapping of his quill filled the empty office. Harry fought a yawn, scratching his head, as he went over eye-witness accounts of robberies in the residential areas. Most of Fyrefox's hits didn't report the robberies, a few only reported because there'd been bystanders. Made him wonder who else the thief got too.

He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. What was the point? Why rob them? None of it made any sense.

Leaning back in his chair, he exhaled. He needed a coffee. He scratched his chin, feeling the soft bristles of an incoming beard.

"So this is what the famous Harry Potter looks like before he steps out into the real world." A hand brushed against his chin.

He opened an eye, taking in the sleepy-eyed redhead in front of him.

She smiled. "You better go before Ron gets up," she told him. "Don't forget the spell or the whole tower will know you've been up here."

He groaned, slipping his arm around her waist. He buried his face in her hair and exhaled. She shivered as his breath brushed against her skin.

"Maybe a few more moments," she whispered, slipping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

Harry groaned, dropping his head on the desk. If Ginny kept distracting him, he'd never get close enough to catch the thief.

"Shite," he muttered. Too riled up to get any work down, let alone sleep. He needed his A-game. Overanalyzing about Ginny or Fyrefox wouldn't help him with the case.

Stay on point, Potter. Ahead of the thief.

If only he could get what this was all about. He stared down at the map and the few circles. Pain throbbed between his eyebrows. He didn't need another headache coming on. Since he got this case, it has been an endless string of headaches and late nights. Not that he got much sleep anyway. Nightmares kept him up.

Ginny walking away from him and disappearing into the darkness just out of his reach woke him up earlier.

He slapped his cheeks softly and shook his head, blinking hard. Regret left a bitter taste in his mouth, like always.

Five years passed before he knew it. Her last words still stung. Her long ponytail the last sight he saw of her in person, but the papers showed her a few times with obscure articles before she appeared to fall off the wizarding world's grid. The only ones who had some form of contact with her were Ron and Hermione, from what he gathered, and if he bet a galleon or two, Neville and Luna too.

Hermione said the Weasleys were worried about her, he thought then shook his head. Stop. She wouldn't want anything to do with him. He'd pushed her to that.

Broke her heart, his too, and he'd never forget that.


"Harry?"

He stiffened, stopping in the middle of the corridor. Merlin, he was a coward. All the brave things people said about him were lies. He wasn't brave at all.

Coward.

He never thought more so than the moment he heard her voice.

"Where're you going?" Ginny asked, stopping beside him.

The right thing to do wasn't easy. Now that Voldemort was dead, the real work began. Restructuring the Ministry came first. The wizarding world needed him, and he needed to help them. Any distractions compromised its success, and Ginny provided the greatest distraction ever.

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