All his life, Harry Potter wished he'd had a normal childhood. He wished that Voldemort had never exsisted. That his parents, friends, and family had never died. He
wished that he had grown up knowing love at home instead of punishment like he'd known at the Dursleys. But most of all he wished that no one, including himself, had ever had to experience the terror and saddness of the final battle. Now here he was sitting on his front porch steps some 21 years since the Final Battle, watching his three kids play quidditch. Those three kids were his life. James : now 16, Albus : now 14, and Lily : now 12 occupied every inch of his heart. Well almost every inch.
As he watched his kids fly around, he saw a flash of long red hair in the corner of his eye. He chuckled to himself remembering the first time he'd really seen that hair. He had just arrived at the Burrow when Ginny had come down the stairs, clad in her pyjamas. Upon seeing Harry, she blushed bright Weasley red, then dashed back up the stairs.
To this day he still wondered how he was lucky enough to marry Ginny. She was loud, smart, beautiful, strong, and completly perfect, and he was just….the boy who lived. Sometimes he wonders how his life would've been different had Voldemort never exsisted, had his parents never died. Who he would've married and how different his life would've been still remains a mystery, and in someways he wishes it would always stay that way. Without Ginny, Harry wouldn't be the man he was today. He loves her, truly loves her and their kids…and if he thinks about it he realizes he wouldn't change a thing.
