Hello readers! This is a collection of snapshots and vignettes of the lives of the Potter and Weasley clans following the end of Voldemort's reign of terror. It's a series of random moments, both big and small, in chronological order, that offer a glimpse into what their lives might be like (So, there's not really a plot, but there's a vague sort of storyline). I hope you all enjoy! Feedback is welcomed gratefully.

One: Set Free

Fiddling anxiously with his dress robes, Harry couldn't help but wonder if Bill and Charlie had felt this way too, when they'd stood in this exact spot in the backyard of the Burrow. He wondered if they'd had that tightness in their chests, making it impossible to breathe normally. Or if their stomachs were clenched and fluttery, as though a thousand Cornish pixies had been let loose, wreaking havoc. Or perhaps their mouths had been drier than parchment, or their heads had spun, with the dizzying feeling of having had one too many fire whiskeys.

Because Harry was experiencing all of these things, and he hardly knew how to react. He supposed he should have asked the eldest Weasley brothers for their advice, but it was a little late for that now. He opted instead for fidgeting restlessly.

As he tugged on his sleeves for the umpteenth time, his best man leant forward to slap his hands into stillness.

"Cut it out," he snapped sternly. Seeing the sheepish look on his face, he relented a little. "Look, mate, just relax. It'll all be fine. The hard part's over, you got her to agree to marry you."

"Thanks so much, Ron," Harry bit back sarcastically.

Any other banter was cut off by the appearance of the girl in question. As she strode down the aisle cutting through the sea of seated relatives, Harry was utterly mesmerized. He took in every tiny detail, committing it to memory. The way the light ivory material of her dress swathed her lithe body perfectly, flowing to the floor and swishing gently with each step. The way one hand curled around a bouquet of red and white calla lilies, while the other curled around her father's arm. The way her ginger hair was pulled into an elegant twist, a few tendrils snaking loose to frame her pale, freckled face. The way her soft pink lips were pulled into a gentle smile that made her face glow. And finally, the way her warm hazel eyes locked on his, conveying a kaleidoscope of emotions that mirrored his own; excitement, nervousness, worry, but above all, joy.

Later that evening, Harry watched as his beautiful new bride was twirled around the dance floor, passed between every male present; her father, her brothers, her multitudes of uncles and cousins, their school friends, even ex-boyfriends (Harry watched these closely). Finally, she was twirled back into his waiting arms, and he grinned as they shuffled – somewhat awkwardly, he had to admit – to the beat of the music.

"What was that face for?" Harry demanded as Ginny's face twisted into a mask of pain and disgust.

"My feet are killing me," she groaned, startling a laugh from Harry, who promised her a foot massage later that evening, to her delight. The grinned at each other in starry-eyed bliss for several long moments, until Ginny's smile started to fade.

"Hey, are you alright?" Harry asked, raising a hand to brush a stray curl away from her cheek. She smiled sadly.
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just...there's so many people missing. So many people who should've been here to see this day. I just miss them all, that's all."

Harry winced at the sorrow in her voice, and the stab of pain in his heart as countless faces flashed through his mind; his mother, his father, Sirius, Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Dobby...the list went on and on. Even four years after the end of Voldemort's reign of terror, the wounds and the pain of these losses had barely started to heal. He pulled his new wife closer, as much for his own comfort as hers.

"I know," he whispered against her soft hair, his voice heavy with the guilt and despair that often threatened to overwhelm him. "I miss them too."

She pulled away from him gently, catching his gaze firmly with hers.

"Hey, let's not mope. I shouldn't have brought it up. This is our day, and we have each other. And I'm happy. Aren't you happy?"

Smiling at this beautiful, feisty woman he could now call his own, Harry's heart seemed to swell.

"Yes. Yes, I'm happy. Happier than I've ever been."

"Well, good." And as she leant in to capture his mouth with hers, Harry thought that for the first time in his life, he felt truly happy, and lucky, and alive. He was free.