Suspension.
"To be honest, I'm not sure about this whole flying thing," said Neville. He was looking apprehensively at his broom, borrowed from a Weasley brother. "The one time I tried, I broke my wrist."
"Never let the fear of falling keep you from flying to the moon," she quoted delicately, then she took his hand. "I promise not to let you break your wrist."
"My neck, on the other hand, is my own responsibility." Despite his sarcasm, he did appreciate her concern, her words—her touch. It soothed him.
"You're not as clumsy as you used to be, you've grown out of it. It'll be a breeze."
"Ginny Weasley, I swear, if I die on this broom—"
"You'll be unable to curse me from the grave, so I needn't worry. Get your bum on the broom."
He frowned deeply (and briefly considered sticking his tongue out and walking away) but finally mounted the broom.
"Do you remember how to get off the ground, at least?"
"That's what gave me trouble."
"Oh honestly, do you want to learn how to fly or do you want to walk the rest of your life?"
"I want to walk the rest of my life."
"Not an option. Lean forward a bit and you'll be flying in no time."
He obliged, hovering awkwardly for a moment. "Ta-da," said he. "Can I be done now?"
"That's not flying. Come on, I have something I want to show you."
"I'm not sure I don't prefer to be ignorant."
"When did you get so stubborn?"
"When I realized I would have to to keep up with you."
She frowned and met his eyes. "Please, Neville?" Her eyes glistened.
She knew he couldn't stand to see her upset. Women. They always have the right cards. "Alright."
He hovered a little higher. Then a little higher. He zoomed forward, then stopped. He made a little circle around her, then awkwardly stopped beside her, his grip slipping forward. He looked up at her to gauge his progress.
"Good enough."
He sat up, frowning. "Good enough for what?"
She smirked. "Can you keep up?"
"To you? No—"
But she was already gone, zooming forward and skyward at an alarming rate. "Merlin's beard, Ginny," muttered he. He began to follow her, tentatively zooming forward, slowly progressing. He couldn't see her anymore, and he wasn't entirely sure what direction she had gone. "Ginny!" he yelled.
Out of nowhere, she appeared beside him. "If you would go a little faster, you would know where I was," she said, a mischievous grin appearing on her face.
He glared at her a little. "If you would tell me where we were going, I wouldn't have to know where you were."
"Not a chance. Come on." And she grabbed the end of his broom and tugged as she took off. Fortunately, he was hanging on—suddenly they were flying, truly flying. He understood, finally, the allure of the air. How jealous he was of the birds—to fly without a broom beneath them! He chanced a glance at Ginny, and her smile proved that she was thinking the same.
And then they touched down, Ginny much more gracefully than Neville. In fact, Neville's landing was more of a crash into the ground than a landing. "Ugh," said he.
"You haven't broken anything, have you?" she asked, kneeling beside him.
"Only my spirit," he responded grimly.
She gave him a hand and stood him up, and it was only then that he noticed his surroundings. A huge lake sat in front of him, shining and surrounded by forest. It was silent, except for the sound of their breathing. He looked to her.
"How did you find this?" he asked, in awe.
"We were playing Quidditch once, two on two." She sat down on the shore, her bare toes dipping into the water. "Me and Fred versus Ron and George. I was trying to catch the Quaffle, but a wind got a hold of me and blew me away from the house. I was lost, and scared, so I touched down. I landed here." She splashed a little with her feet.
"It's beautiful, Ginny," he said. He glanced up at her, and she was smiling. "Why did you bring me here?"
She looked away, into the water. "You know all my other secrets, Nev," she said, and he tried not to cringe at her shortening of his name. "I wanted you to know this one too."
He smiled, but was unable to come up with the words to describe his gratitude. Instead, he took her hand. "There's a secret I've been keeping from you."
She met his eyes. "And what's that?"
With all the courage his Gryffindor heart could muster he leaned closer to her, cupped her jaw in his hand, and kissed her. Her lips moved against his, and it was absolute bliss. This, he decided, could be better than flying.
When they needed air, they parted, but her forehead remained against his, her shining eyes the only thing he could see. "Don't keep any more secrets from me," she said, her lips forming a smile that he could only feel.
"I won't," he promised, and she kissed him again.
We are gaining speed,
I can barely breathe,
'Cause I'm caught in suspension