Disclaimer: i am J.K Rowling...okay i am not

I woud like to thank my sister for editing

A Career Choice

Everybody thought that Harry Potter would surely become an Auror. After all, he had done more than anyone to save the wizarding and muggle world, it was only natural that he would go on to make it a career. Still, as he sat alone in the common room of Griffindor tower, quiet and peaceful after the commotion of the battle that had robbed many good wizards of their lives, he couldn't help feeling somewhat doubtful.

Sure, becoming an Auror was a great accomplishment, something he would be proud of. But after all he'd been through these past seven years; could he do this for the rest of his life?

Harry put his forehead to the cold glass windows. His scar would never hurt again. He was sure that from upstairs he heard muffled sobs, but it might have been his imagination. Although most of the residents of the castle were likely fast asleep at this point of night, he had a feeling that Ron was still lying in bed, sobbing quietly. Poor, poor Ron. The death of a brother was something hard to get over. Harry wished he'd had a brother so he could begin to understand.

A brother...one to play with, fight with, tease...they could have played Quidditch together, flying side by side. Would his brother also be naturally gifted at the sport, like their father? James said he's going to be a great Quidditch player. Who had said that? Sirius? Harry claimed that Quidditch gave him joy because of silly things, like the wind blowing through his messy hair (cliche, but there you go) and the fans shouting his name...but the real reason he played was because of his parents, and Sirius...and how connected to them he felt when he flew and chased around that tiny golden ball. Because he knew that his father must have felt the same thing, and that feeling kept them connected across time and space, and death. He wanted to play Quidditch...would he have time if he became an Auror?

Out of the darkness and silence, Harry heard a rustle and faint footsteps. Who could it be, up so late? He straighted himself, took his forehead from the glass and turned. A figure appeared from the girl's dormitory door.

"Nighttimes do seem the hardest, don't they?" whispered a soft voice. Harry felt his heart beat faster, and knew he had found an answer to his question. He could not become an Auror, because it would mean losing that soft, understanding voice, and those big, green eyes so full of questions and answers. The smell of flowers when she walked into a room, and the calmness that went with her when she left it. How could he become an Auror when he knew he could never leave Ginny again?

Hope that you liked it!!!!