Ginny had changed into jeans and a t-shirt herself, and was waiting for him at the garden shed. She'd tied her hair back too, but wisps of it had already come out around her ears. She was looking around for Harry when he came from the kitchen door, and smiled when she saw him.

"Here!" she called, waving. He jogged over to her. It was good to be outside, even if the sky was looking grey.

"Hi. Ready?" he said eagerly, reaching her.

"I was born ready," she said in a tough voice, and threw one leg over her broom, kicking off the ground and leaving him behind. It took him by surprise a bit, but his Seeker's reflexes soon kicked in, and in a few seconds he was right behind her. Besides, her Cleansweep was no match for his Ascendant.

He was soon level with her, on her right-hand side. She was an excellent flier, steady but not afraid to take risks. She seemed happier, too – when he looked at her, she turned to smile wickedly at him, and then dropped low, quite suddenly.

"Hey," he cried, laughing despite himself, and swooping to catch up. She looped around him.

"Too slow, Potter!"

He let her tease him. He could have pulled some daredevil flying on her, but for some reason he didn't want to. And he was a bit dizzy from it, too – not the circling broom exactly, but something to do with her ponytail and bright laughter.

After several minutes of this, she halted in front of him, and hovered.

"You done yet?" he said, leaning back on his broom.

"What?" she retorted, breathless. "Too scared to chase me?"

Alright, enough of the easy going. He grinned and sped forward – she, with her equally quick reflexes, did the same. She tried to distract him with some feinting (left, right, left – further left – back to right), but he wasn't fooled.

"Ginny Weasley," he called.

"Harry Potter," she called back.

He swept in front of her, and blocked her path.

"Gotcha," he said.

She smiled and shook her head. "Alright. You got me."

They looked at each other a few moments, and then both looked away. Harry glanced down, to the countryside. It was beautiful from high up. Everywhere was green. In the distance he could see The Burrow, so small and ramshackle that he felt a sudden surge of love for it.

"I love it here," he said, feeling the need to tell somebody.

"Me too," Ginny said, looking back at her house. "Every year I come up here and think I don't want to go back to Hogwarts."

Harry started. "Don't you like it there?"

"Of course I do. It's just – well, there's nothing quite like home is there?"

Harry's mood was immediately dampened. "I wouldn't know," he said. "Hogwarts is my home. Was."

Ginny turned to look at him. He didn't want to see her face and the pity there, but when he forced himself to meet her eyes, they contained nothing but a certain sadness.

"You'll miss it, won't you?" she said.

He nodded. He didn't want to think about not going back to Hogwarts, and she seemed to realise this, because she quickly brightened.

"Well, you've got all of us anyway," she said cheerily. "You can see us anytime you like."

"That's true," he acknowledged. And it was. He felt a little better.

"Come on," she said, waving vaguely ahead of them.

They flew for almost two hours, sometimes gently, sometimes at speeds so fast he thought he might start flying all by himself. He felt happier than he had in a very long time, and the memories were all crammed up in the back of his mind. Locked away. Just where he liked them.

He was lazily skimming about ten metres off the ground when he noticed Ginny was in trouble. She was about twenty metres above him and had been doing fine all the while – it was pure luck that he saw her when he did. Her broom gave a sudden jerk. That happened sometimes with Cleansweeps and he didn't think much of it. When she cried out, however, he looked up again and saw the broom hadn't stopped jerking. It was bucking like a wild horse.

Ginny didn't call for help. Her face was set and determined, but every few seconds she'd make a surprised sound as the broom moved.

Harry began to fly up and see what the trouble was, when Ginny's broom gave a sudden, almighty heave and almost knocked her off her.

"Ginny! Fuck!" he screamed, and was beside her in seconds. She was hanging on for dear life, trying to get balance, and the broom was trying to wrench itself away.

"Ginny," he said again. "Hang on! Just – alright, I'm here, grab me."

He positioned his broom alongside her own and held out his arms. She looked at him, the brave Ginny gone, and a frightened girl in her place.

"I can't!" she wailed. "I'll fall!"

"You won't fall," he said firmly, trying to remain calm himself. He almost just seized her as the broom gave another yank, but thought that might be even more dangerous if she panicked. "You won't fall," he repeated. "I'm right here. OK? Grab hold of me."

Tentatively, she reached out a hand, just as the broom leapt forwards with another jerking movement. She was holding onto nothing – air – for a few moments. His heart actually stopped. But then he had her, somehow, and was holding onto her, flying away from her mad broom and down to earth.

Her face was buried in his chest, her arms around his waist, and her hair was underneath his chin. He'd hadn't touched it or smelt it since she was a giddy eleven-year-old, and it was the weirdest sensation to be so close to her.

"You're OK," he murmured, taking the journey back to the ground very slowly – partly to keep her calm, and partly because … well, he quite liked holding her like this. "Don't worry. It's OK."
He wondered if she could feel his heart beating. It was going like crazy. He'd thought she was going to die for a second there.

When he reached the ground, he dropped his broom and sat down with her. She was sobbing now, holding onto him like she'd been holding onto the broom not long before, shaking and unable to find breath. He rubbed her back uncertainly and said something to her, he barely knew what – just something to stop her being so upset. It didn't really work, and she cried and swore for a little while longer.

When she finally had control of herself again, she immediately released Harry.

"Sorry," she said, looking and sounding mortified. She wiped her face quickly. "Sorry. God. I must look awful. It's so stupid of me."

"It's not stupid at all," Harry said. "You nearly bloody died up there."

"I shouldn't cry. It's such a girly thing to cry."

"Well, you're a girl aren't you? And I'd be crying too if it was me."

She shook her head at him and half-smiled. "No, you wouldn't. It's just stupid because I'm fine, and nothing's wrong, so there's no reason to cry even. I guess – everything sort of caught up with me. Sorry."

"Don't worry," he said, looking at his feet. "I know what that's like. It's OK."
Quite suddenly, Ginny's broom dropped out of the sky and plummeted to earth. They watched it in stunned silence, and both winced as it hit the ground and splintered.

"Great," Ginny said miserably. "Mum's never going to let me get a new one."

"I wonder why it went crazy like that."

"Me too." She sighed. "I might not even be allowed to fly anymore after this."

"Not allowed to fly?"

She shrugged ruefully. "Mum and Dad are so careful about us now. You know – with Percy and everything."

Percy had been lost to the Weasleys a year ago. He'd come back to the family after realising he'd made a very big mistake, and was just beginning to find his feet again when he was attacked by Death Eaters in a Ministry of Magic siege. He'd died fighting, but that was little consolation for the family.

Harry knew nothing he said would make her feel better about Percy – not much people said made him feel better about the people he'd lost – so he just nodded.

"Thanks for saving me, Harry," she said, finding a smile. Her face was red from crying.

"That's alright," he said awkwardly.

She laughed unexpectedly, sounding almost bitter. "What must you think of me?" she said. "I'm the same clumsy little eleven-year-old who sent you leprechaun valentines."

"You're – you," said Harry, not even sure what he meant by this. Ginny's smile faded, and she was looking at him strangely, with a bit of a frown. Harry didn't know where to look. The tension was broken as she stood. He did the same.

"We should get back," she said. "It looks like it might rain."

As she said the words, a drop of water sailed down from the sky and hit Harry on the head. They both grinned.

"You jinxed us," he said.

"I tend to do that," she replied.

He stepped onto his broom, and there was another awkward moment as she stood looking at it. Harry felt equally uncomfortable. It was different when she was being saved from death by splattering on the ground – this time they were purposely getting onto a broom together, and he wasn't sure what the etiquette was.

"Ah – do you want to sit in front or behind?" he asked finally.

"Um. I don't know. I guess – behind," she said.

He shifted up, and she straddled the broom.

"Put your arms around my waist," he instructed, his voice a bit croaky. She complied, and shifted closer.

"Right," he said, clearing his throat. "Well – let's go."

They back to The Burrow in afternoon rain.