Harry had never felt more at home than when in the sky. It was as if it was always awaiting him to straddle his broom and take to the sky valiantly. He took in a deep breath of fresh fall air before casting a light warming charm.
It was a clear, beautiful day; the sun was shining, there was a slight breeze, a crisp chill only familiar to that time of year. It was Harry's favorite because It always brought him back to the smell of parchment, ink, and an old worn wooden desk; his days at Hogwarts.
His not too young fingers felt a little too much give on the hard wood, but he still felt invigorated, even at his age.
Black hair that was beginning to lose its rich velvet luster blew in front of the still brilliantly green eyes. He whooshed through the sky, and he knew who was watching him.
He looked down to see some of his students from the castle, and next to them was the very sour (or trying to be) face of the Potions' Master of the school.
When Harry finally touched back down he approached the greying blonde and his slightly wrinkled, but still quite ferret-like, features.
"You really are a loony, Potter."
"And you're old."
Harry laughed when he received a pathetic pout.
"But I still love you."
Draco leaned down to kiss him.
"Loony."