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The Quidditch pitch was empty, the sky a clear endless blue, and for this Harry was profoundly grateful as she whipped past the goalposts on her Firebolt, enjoying the sharp rush of wind on her face. She had spent the last three hours in the dark humid recesses of the Potions dungeon, serving her detentions for Snape, and flying was a welcome relief from endlessly chopping Flobberworms, or dwelling over Dumbledore’s lessons filled with Dark magic and Horcruxes and orphan boys.
Harry closed her eyes, breathing in the crisp spring air, pushing her stresses away. She could feel herself relax, the tension knotted in her muscles fading away.
Then—a rush of air and a sudden blur in her peripheral vision, and Harry rolled away instinctively, barely avoiding the red Quaffle hurtling past her into empty sky. She came up from the roll breathless and flushed, eyes already scanning the sky—
“Dozing off, Captain?”
Harry looked down. Ginny Weasley was hovering a few feet below her, smirking slightly. In her hands was the Quaffle, which she tossed into the air and caught easily.
“Ginny!” Harry said, grinning back despite her surprise. “Shouldn’t you be at dinner?”
“I wanted to get some practice in,” Ginny said. “Also, Snape’s at dinner and the sight of that’s enough to put anyone off—“
Harry laughed, feeling a familiar lightness buoy up inside her at the thought of an evening spent in Ginny’s company. It was growing increasingly difficult to ignore her feelings for the girl whom she had grown steadily closer with since fifth year—especially when Ginny seemed to be a constant presence everywhere Harry looked, whether she was joking with the team at Quidditch practice or simply saying goodnight before bed, smelling like floral shampoo—
She’s Ron’s sister, Harry reminded herself sternly. She just broke it off with Dean. You don’t even know if she likes girls. She’s out of bounds.
She shook off the thought and dipped down to meet Ginny. “Want to run some passing drills?”
The next two hours fell away in a warm, weightless blur. Harry could not remember feeling this relaxed in a long time; the combination of a hard workout and being with Ginny seemed to knock all thoughts of Voldemort and Horcruxes and Malfoy out of her mind. The day was drawing to a close by the time Harry finally called a halt, the sky pink and lovely with the first blush of sunset. For a moment, they both floated peacefully in the air, gazing down at the lush green grounds rolling away from them, the dark craggy spine of Hogwarts rising up over the horizon. Not for the first time, Harry marveled that this world was real, that it was hers, that the eleven-year-old girl who lived in a cupboard under some stairs had found home and hope in this unruly, magical place.
“It’s beautiful,” Ginny said solemnly beside her.
Harry nodded, her throat tight, chancing a glance at Ginny. Here, high above the rest of the world, the distance between them seemed to fall away. She envisioned perhaps catching hold of Ginny’s hand, of confessing her feelings away from Ron and Malfoy and the distractions of day-to-day life…
Harry was jerked out of her contemplation by a glint of gold. Their practice Snitch fluttered innocently about an oblivious Ginny’s ankle. Harry darted forward in pursuit. The movement alerted Ginny, who darted forward a second later, but Harry was faster; she tipped the Firebolt down and shot into a steep dive, knowing without looking that Ginny was on her tail. The rippling green of the Quidditch pitch came into sharper focus as Harry hurtled towards the ground, eyes stinging beneath her glasses, hair whipping furiously at her face. A blur of red by her shoulder; Ginny was gaining speed, and Harry flattened herself closer to the sleek wood of the broom—
A few breathless moments before crashing, and Harry pulled her broom up sharply, dirt spattering into the air as she dug her heels into the ground. The impact was jarring, but Harry managed to brace herself well enough, tumbling off her Firebolt flat onto the soft dewy grass.
The evening had fallen into a sultry stillness. Harry closed her eyes and breathed in the soft summer smells of clipped grass, letting a drowsy heaviness take over her body. What she would not give to remain suspended here forever, free of the perpetual shadow Voldemort cast over her life…
“You’re brooding,” Ginny said lightly, dropping onto the ground beside her.
Harry laughed, opening her eyes. “No, just thinking.”
She watched as Ginny plucked a daisy, twisted the stem with her nail. Her vibrant hair had come loose, fanning around her shoulders, and there was a smudge of dirt on her cheekbone. Harry thought she had never looked lovelier.
Ginny’s warm brown eyes met hers, searching, and Harry flushed, wondering if she’d been caught staring. The next second, Ginny’s eyes slipped away, fixing on a point beyond Harry’s shoulder.
“Look,” she said, pointing, and Harry followed her guide. The Snitch was hovering just beyond Harry’s shoulder, glittering in the last rays of sun. They glanced at each other briefly, and then both lunged for it at once, shoulders colliding hard—Harry’s reach was longer, and so she felt the flutter of feathers against her fingers a moment before Ginny crashed into her, sending them both tumbling onto the grass.
The resulting tangle of limbs left both of them horizontal, and Ginny very close to Harry. Their faces were inches apart, and Harry was almost dizzy with her nearness, unable to pull away…she could see every freckle on Ginny’s nose, the pink flush to her cheek, could smell floral shampoo beneath the mud and wind and grass. She was suddenly quite aware that she was gripping Ginny’s warm wrist, pulse humming beneath her fingers.
“Ginny,“ she started, moving to let go, but Ginny’s eyes were locked onto hers, her expression fierce and blazing, and when Harry met her gaze all thought seemed to flee her head….the world had narrowed to the two of them, sun and shining sky and the girl by her side, and suddenly it was the easiest thing in the world to lean forward and kiss her.
After several shining moments, they broke apart, Ginny’s face glowing like the setting sun. They smiled at each other.
“Well,” Ginny said, slightly breathless but face perfectly neutral, “Back to practice, then?”
Harry stared at her, stomach swooping horribly—until she caught sight of the mischevious grin tugging at Ginny’s mouth.
“Don’t cheek me, Weasley,” she said, grinning, “I’m the Captain, you know, I could make you run drills for—” she stopped, cut off, for Ginny had surged forward and kissed her again, one hand pressed on her cheek and tangling into her hair. Harry melted into it, drawing Ginny closer. The Snitch fluttered feebly against her still-clenched fist; for once, Harry let it go. For the moment, there were other things to practice.