Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I just don't.

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Harry lay on his side, watching the peaceful rise and fall of Ginny's chest as she slept. Nothing in particular was on his mind that night, he just couldn't sleep.

If he were Hermione, he'd grab a book and read by wand-light. He if he were Ron… no, Ron would be fast asleep. But he was Harry Potter.

Voldemort was dead. There was nothing left to do really, and that bored Harry. He figured that once the trouble was over, his life would go right back to normal. But what was normal for him anyways?

With a sigh, he slipped from under the covers and reached for his glasses on the nightstand. Slipping them on, he crept silently from the room.

He opened the first door on the right. James was sprawled across his bed, snoring, with the sheets hanging off one corner. James' shaggy hair was standing off his head in every imaginable angle. Harry smiled at his son, who looking so much like him it was funny. He supposed he looked so much like his own father that it was like looking into a mirror.

Albus was lying in the dead centre of his bed, as still and as quiet as a corpse. A book was lying, open, beside him. The lamp on his desk was still on. Harry went and flicked it off, leaning against the door. Albus stirred in his sleep, flipping onto this side, and Harry pressed his lips together – not like he was making any noise anyways – and crept out of the room.

The door across from the boys' room belonged to Lily. He pushed the door open slightly, peeking to make sure she was asleep. She was curled into a ball, her sheets tucked all the way up to her chin. The window farthest from her bed was open, just the way she liked it, and the curtain's billowed and the moon cast a silverish glow on the room. Harry shut the door and headed to his study.

Perching on the window, he looked out onto the front yard. The uneven patches of grass he still hadn't charmed into growing properly shone a brilliant silvery-green in the moonlight. Ginny would probably remind him in the morning to get that done. Their plain black sedan was parked in front of the garage, which currently housed the family's broomsticks. All-in-all, the house resembled an inconspicuous muggle home from the outside with its red brick walls and gravel driveway.

To Harry it was normal, inconspicuous… boring. Here he was, the Chosen One, wearing muggle-made nightclothes, in a muggle home in the middle of a muggle community. He figured he looked just like a middle-aged Muggle man.

There wasn't even anything of interest going on in the Wizard World, he concluded. The office was boring, with only the odd crack-head wizard to haul off to Azkaban to keep him occupied.

The kids would all be going to Hogwarts this fall, with only eight days to go. They'd been counting down on the calendar beside the fridge every morning.

His life was normal. Harry wasn't sure whether that was good or bad.

He thought back to his six years at Hogwarts, preparing him for a life of wizard adventure, and frowned. Sure, those six years were pretty darn important when it came down to defeating the Dark Lord, but what about after that? He sighed, pressing his forehead against the window.

His scar didn't even tingle anymore. Harry supposed one morning, he'd just wake up and it wouldn't be there anymore. It would have faded in the night, leaving his forehead pale and blank. He'd be just another normal person with a normal forehead.

Harry guessed he was turning into the wizard version of Dudley, and chucked. Dudley married a stocky woman, and worked in the bank. He had two little chubby children and a plain house in Central London. Harry wasn't that normal, yet.

"Harry? Are you in there?" Ginny called quietly, her head appearing in the doorway. Harry smiled at her, his heart skipping a beat. Ginny came and joined him by the window, pressing her face into the crook of his neck.

Harry pressed a kiss against the corner of her mouth, and she turned and caught him in a full-on kiss. She pulled away smiling up at him.

"Hey you," he whispered. "What are you doing up?" Ginny shrugged, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"I felt you get up, and followed you," she explained and Harry remembered what a light sleeper he was. "What are you doing up anyways, Potter?"

"Thinking," he replied, smiling down at her, and feeling like he was a teenager in love again and Ginny just caught him sneaking out of the common room.

"About?" she probed.

"I don't know. I guess I was thinking about life since, you know… deciding to settle down," he explained.

She kissed him again. "Bored of me yet?"

"I think you're the only thing in my life that's not boring." As he said it, it registered to him. She was. "I guess with you, I still feel seventeen."

Ginny laughed softly. "I still feel seventeen again too."

"Can I have another kiss?" he asked with a smile down at his wife. She leaned up on her toes to kiss him, and Harry met her half-way.

His life wasn't as bad as he thought. He had a beautiful wife and three amazing kids who'd soon get into their own trouble at school. Maybe it was time for Harry to step down. He was almost forty really.

As he and Ginny slowly crept back into their room, he figured maybe slowing down wouldn't be as bad as he'd thought. It felt sort of like falling in young love with his wife all over again. And that wasn't so bad, he concluded.

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A/N: Anyone else think this ending was a major let-down? Well, yeah… it was. I'm sitting here typing with my headphones blasting really loud music and ignoring my dad and brother. We're currently not on the best speaking terms. They've lent out my Harry Potter collection without my permission and can't get a hold of it again – just when I'd like to read the series again. So, yeah, I need my fucking books back now.

You see what Harry's doing now? I do that too… think about nothing in particular and then move to thinking about something specific, which usually is pretty depressing.

So, please R&R, my dear reviewers. Even if all you're going to review hinting on ways to torture my brother/father; I'd appreciate it. (: I'm really desperate for some help. So, if y'all can hustle up some rusty cutlery; we'd be cool. I'm kidding… partially.