She imagined what Ginny and Harry’s life might have looked like if the war ended. She saw them smiling and laughing, Ginny, a spitfire and free spirit, teasing and joking, flying and teaching their kids how to fly. She saw herself, babysitting while Harry and Ginny went out for date nights. She saw them all at the Burrow for Christmas. She saw them at Kings Cross, waving goodbye to crying eleven year olds. 