It was always the same in the morning:
Wake up.
Get dressed.
Get coffee.
Smoke two cigarettes.
Go to work.
And always the same at night:
Get out of work.
Get coffee.
Smoke two cigarettes.
Go home.
Smoke more cigarettes.
Make dinner.
Eat.
Drink.
Sleep.
Wake up.
The monotony of everyday working life was killing him. He couldn't keep doing the same thing over, and over, and over again. Day in and day out. For years, and years, and years... It had only been four of those years since it was unintentionally set. And every day it ate away at him, bit by bit.
He had once thought this was what he had wanted. Stability. His dream job. His own apartment. In the wizarding world that still welcomed him. Albeit he didn't have the family he wanted, what with Ginny leaving him for another beau. Again. He figured he was still young, and it was probably for the best. He was only twenty-five, after all... Though that fact didn't stop his friends, Ron and Hermione from starting early as they were the same age as him.
Harry often wondered what it would be like if he didn't catch Ginny with that other man, if she hadn't cheated on him at all. Would he have had children by now? A miniature version of himself running around the house he would have bought for his budding family? A lovely wife to come home to, instead of an empty, and stale smelling flat with full ashtrays and an empty fridge?
He didn't know.
Nor would he ever, he figured.
With that last thought he turned over in his bed, and tried, once again, to go back to sleep... He had work in the morning.