After taking Albus aside, Harry helped him board the train that was pulled up to platform nine and three quarters at King's Cross station and watched with his wife, Ginny and his younger daughter, Lily.
Harry gazed in awe at Ginny as he subtly ran his fingers through her dark red hair and kissed her cheek before taking his family back through the barrier and to the family car. But then Harry turned back and in his mind's eye he didn't see his world. Suddenly, London was gone. As he got in the passenger seat of the car, Harry saw a girl flipping through a book.
"Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," he muttered to himself, reading the title at the top of the page she was engrossed in. Her brown hair was pulled up in a messy bun and she wore a sweatshirt and glasses which was about as much as Harry could see, He was limited to the view the open book offered which was somewhat limited.
Behind the girl reading the book there was a window with open blinds. The sky was pale, the opaque gray pallor of the sky was almost white, however, and there was snow drifting passively to the ground. The flakes of ice sluggishly added to the snowdrifts behind her and there was even a tree, it's gnarly branches weighted down slightly with snow.
This scene was somewhat familiar to Harry. He'd seen it throughout his lifetime, this girl reading in front of the window. In seasons past it wasn't snow he saw but maybe flowers or the reds and orange hues of Autumn leaves. She always wore her hair in a messy bun and always wore the glasses with the thick black frames.
Harry had the privilege of watching the girl grow up. Sometimes she'd read with tear stains on her face from bullies at school or a fight with her Mom at home. She'd read as her escape. Other times she would read just to read. Harry found it entertaining when she read quietly to herself, she did all the voices and it interested him, even though it was his own story.
As time had passed, Harry grew familiar with this girl. Sometimes seeing other readers in his mind's eye. But he found this girl, out of the millions who loved his story, to be unique. He loved how she laughed and cried shamelessly with his story. Everytime she went back and reread, she still had emotions as intense and real as the first time she read through. The compassion in her heart touched him and while she, Ava, loved Harry, Harry grew to love her as well.
"Damn," Harry thought, snapping back into his own mind for a moment as he looked at his wife who unfroze and resumed getting in the car. "I wish the writer hadn't made me fall in love with Ginny. I kissed her once in book six and suddenly we're married with three kids. I can't feel what I want to because it's already written for me. I can't change my fate."
"Ginny?" Harry asked and her eyes breifly looked from the road to him.
"Do you ever feel that maybe there's something more? Like you're out of place in your own world?" Harry asked, wringing his hands.
"All the time," she said. "I felt that way when Fred died, and Tonks and Lupin. I knew that they'd gone to a better place but for a minute I wanted to be with them and away from here."
Harry felt a pang of guilt go through him. He'd loved all those she'd mentioned but he knew Ginny would never understand him. She would never be there for him on the level Ava was. But as a book character on paper, composed of nothing more than ink and a little love, he had no choice but to go along with it.