A/N: This is just a cute little scene that popped into my head while I was finishing up the last chapter. I hope you like it. I think that it leaves the story on a good note, don’t you. Anyway, there will be no sequel I promise, this thing is already much, much longer than I had intended it to be. I am sad to see the story end. I have been writing this story for a couple of years now. It has been a long and drawn out process. There were lots of points when I just wanted to give up completely, only to have inspiration hit me at the last moment. Anyhow, it’s over now. Enough of my silly rambles. Enjoy!
A while before...
“Come on, Mrs. Potter.” Harry said with a grin, “It’s time to make our escape.”
“Oh, Mrs. Potter, doesn’t that sound nice.” Ginny sighed.
Nodding toward the exit hall, he replied, “It sounds just about perfect.”
Hermione caught them trying to edge towards the door and cried out, “Stop right there!” Everyone froze, looking toward Hermione as she carried little Rose, her new daughter, towards the couple, “Don’t think you’re getting away without hugs.” After this of course, everyone had to have a hug from Great Auntie Muriel down to little Teddy Lupin.
As the sun set, Harry and Ginny ran out of the entrance hall as the guests sprayed them with gold sparks instead of the traditional muggle rice. They raced down the front steps into the giant carriage that Madame Maxime had lent as her gift to the couple as family and friends shouted advice and good wishes. The giant winged horses quickly glided away up into the air, bearing them off to their honeymoon and a happy life.
She sighed, “It’s finally over isn’t it?”
“What is?” he asked, turning towards her, away from the carriage window.
“All of this wedding nonsense. It’s done. We’re married and now it’s finally over!”
He looked uncomfortable as he pointed out to her, “Gin, um, I think that you’re forgetting something rather important.”
“Forgetting what? We’re married now, there are no more plans to make, nothing left to do. Only our honeymoon to go on, right?” she asked innocently and unconcerned, concentrating on the ripped hem of her dress.
“Not exactly.” He answered, tugging at his tie and squirming a little in his suddenly uncomfortable seat by the window.
“Harry James, what do you mean ‘Not exactly’?” She questioned, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“Well, I don’t know much about weddings but I do know that you’re supposed to send thank you notes for the gifts that you receive.”
“So? That won’t take very long even with that mountain we received. Just wave a wand over the address book again and you're done, we did the same spell with the invitations…” she trailed off as his expression didn’t change to mirror her own relief.
“Your mother tells me that they’re supposed to be hand written and personalized. No magic.”
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