Harry drove to work once a month. It was a silly little indulgence he allowed himself, and he knew he probably shouldn't do it – Ginny told him so often enough. But even after all his less than pleasant experiences he'd had in the Muggle world, he still kept this; the driving.
So on the last Friday of every month, he took the car keys out of the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter and folded himself into the tiny Fiat that was parked on the side of the road outside their house in Godric's Hollow. He tossed his briefcase onto the back seat and sat with his hands on the wheel for a few seconds, before twisting the keys and slowly pulling away.
The real fun was had when Harry reached the motorway. Here, he could gun the little car as much as its engines allowed – he once managed to get it going fast enough to make it to the outside lane, something he boasted about for weeks after.
The journey itself was fairly nondescript: any traffic could be dealt with magically and if he was going to be late – which was most of the time – he simply stopped in a car park and apparated the rest of the way. In fact, in some ways, the drive was dreadful. The car needed filling up far more often than Harry suspected was normal, the radio never got a signal and the whole car rattled alarming whenever he tried to get it above fourth gear.
However, none of that really mattered to him. What was the saying? It is not the destination that matters, but the journey? That was one of the things Harry most detested about the wizarding world: everything was so instant. Apparating got you to a place instantly. The Floo network transferred you from one fireplace to another instantly. Even vehicular transport – broomsticks and Thestrals – were far faster and more direct than most Muggle counterparts. Although most wizards applauded this, and laughed at the Muggles for their slower, less efficient means of travel, Harry found it somewhat quaint and liked the time he got to himself from it.
Sitting in the tiny Fiat, with miles of road in front of him, Harry felt he finally understood how the Muggles could be so enterprising and – for lack of a better word – utterly brilliant. All the ways to get by without magic; everything they came up with to make life that little bit easier to live.
In some ways, Harry thought, Muggles were far more advanced than wizards. They were far more creative, with their make-do-and-mend spirit, and took the time to sit back and see the finer things in life.
And it was on these monthly drives to work that Harry did some of his best thinking. It was here that he'd come up for his best man speech for Ron and Hermione's wedding. Here where he'd decided to ask Ginny to marry him. And here where he'd realised he wanted to start a family. There was something therapeutic about the road; about shifting from gear to gear, adjusting the steering wheel slightly, alternating between the pedals. Something his friends just didn't understand.
So as he pulled out of the quiet village onto the main road, Harry turned his mind to the question his daughter had posed him that morning – could she have Scorpius Malfoy over for the holidays? The drive might be a very long one indeed...