Chapter Text
Anti-hero
If there was one thing Harry had learned about public opinion, it was that it was fickle.
He'd long since accepted that. He'd been dealing with it since he was fourteen. And at thirty-four, it barely fazed him.
One day he was the most successful department head the Ministry had ever seen. The next, he was a complete and utter failure who'd used his fame to manipulate his way to the top.
It was nonsense, all of it. The only thing that mattered to him was his family and friends. The thought of their names being smeared in the papers was something that had always haunted him.
But this? This was different. This was...something he'd never encountered before.
Harry had never deluded himself into thinking he was perfect at his job. Quite the opposite. For years he'd suffered various levels of imposter syndrome.
But this had been a grave error.
Someone in his department had been bought. Evidence had been stolen. A months' long investigation foiled.
And now it would take a miracle to close this case.
But none of that, none of it, mattered to him as much as the innocent family involved. For they might be forever left in limbo, not knowing who or what had been the cause of their son's death.
Harry sat in his study, the heel of his hands pressed painfully into his eyes.
Various newspapers were strewn about atop his desk, detailing his failures. And never before had an article about himself crushed him the way these had.
He deserved every negative word they had to say.
"Harry," Abby said near the door. "It's midnight, please...just come to bed."
He could hear her walking towards him, but he refused to look up. He almost felt ashamed to.
"Please," she said again, taking his face into her hands.
Harry finally opened his eyes. "I can't," he said in a ragged voice. "I can't go to sleep."
Abby shifted her eyes to his desk and immediately frowned. "Oh, enough with these," she said, stacking them all in a pile and carrying them as she walked toward the door.
"Where are you going?"
"To toss them in the fire!" she said over her shoulder.
Harry didn't have the energy to stop her. He merely got up and walked tiredly toward the sitting room.
"I will not allow some brainless sacks of dung to have any say in this matter," she said. "You've been torturing yourself enough. You don't need these bloody toerags piling on."
Harry only rubbed a hand down his face.
After tossing the last paper into the fire she turned on her heel and walked towards him. "Look at me," she said, grabbing onto his face again. "You're a good Auror. But more importantly you're a good person. And whether you solve this case or not, I love you. Your family loves you. You don't have to save anyone or anything to be worthy of that."
Closing his eyes, Harry placed his hands atop hers and let out a shaky breath.
"Come to bed," Abby said, bringing his hands down with her hers. "I'll run my fingers through your hair till you fall asleep."
Harry cracked a small smile. "Fine, you've convinced me."
"I always do," she said, practically dragging him towards the stairs.