A/N This chapter is a little shorter, I am working on next one my plan is to try to post a chapter a week. I hope you enjoy.
The air grew thinner as Harry climbed higher, each breath burning in his lungs. Below, the Burrow shrank until it was nothing more than a toy house nestled among patchwork fields. Up here, the emptiness inside him seemed to make more sense – as if the altitude justified the hollow space behind his ribs where something vital used to live.
He'd felt it since that day in the forest. At first, he'd thought it was just exhaustion, the natural aftermath of dying and coming back. But as days stretched into weeks, the void remained. Sometimes he caught himself pressing a hand to his chest, checking for... what? The piece of soul that had lived there for seventeen years? The constant weight of prophecy and destiny that had shaped his entire life?
Or maybe he was just looking for the person he used to be, the boy who knew how to kiss Ginny by the lake without flinching at shadows.
The memory of her in the kitchen hit him with physical force – the warmth of her skin under his fingers, the way she'd looked at him like he wasn't broken. For a moment, he'd forgotten to be afraid. For a moment, the emptiness had felt less like a void and more like a space waiting to be filled with something new.
Then Ron had appeared, and reality had come crashing back. Because that's what happened, wasn't it? The moment you let yourself believe in safety, in happiness, the world reminded you how quickly it could all be ripped away.
Harry banked sharply left, pushing the Firebolt faster. The wind stung his eyes, but he welcomed the pain. It was better than remembering Ginny's face as he'd fled, better than thinking about how close he'd come to—
A flash of movement caught his eye. Someone else was in the air, a distant figure weaving through the orchard trees below. The familiar grace of the flying style made his heart stutter. Ginny. She must have grabbed her broom after he'd left.
For a moment, he hovered, torn between climbing higher and... what? Racing down to join her like he might have done before? Challenging her to catch the practice Snitch he still carried in his pocket?
The figure below pulled into a steep dive, red hair streaming like a banner against the morning sky. Harry's breath caught as she plummeted toward the ground. His body tensed, ready to dive after her – but no, this was Ginny. She'd been flying since she could walk. Sure enough, she pulled up at the last second, skimming the grass with effortless precision before soaring back up.
She was showing off, he realized with a start. Making sure he noticed her. Making sure he knew she was just as comfortable in the air as he was.
The hollow space in his chest ached. Once, this would have been simple. They would have raced and laughed and maybe stolen kisses between dives. Now... now everything felt weighted with meaning he wasn't sure how to carry.
Ginny barrel-rolled through a gap in the trees, and despite himself, Harry smiled. She'd always been fearless in the air. Even during that terrible year at Hogwarts, when the Carrows... His smile faded. He still didn't know everything that had happened while he was away. She never talked about it, just like he never talked about the forest. They were both so careful with their broken pieces.
Maybe that was the problem.
Before he could overthink it, Harry tilted his Firebolt into a shallow dive. He wasn't ready for kisses in the kitchen, for conversations about nightmares and empty spaces. But this – the simple language of flight, of wind and speed and trust – maybe this was somewhere to start.
Ginny spotted him immediately. She pulled up, hovering at eye level as he approached. Her hair was wild from flying, her cheeks flushed with cold and exertion. She didn't speak, just raised an eyebrow in silent challenge.
Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the practice Snitch. Its wings unfurled as he held it up, catching the early morning light.
"Best of three?" His voice was rough from disuse, but he managed a small smile.
Ginny's answering grin was like sunrise breaking through clouds. "You're on, Potter."
As he released the Snitch and watched it zip away, Harry felt something shift in that hollow space inside him. It wasn't filling, exactly. But maybe it was reshaping itself, becoming less like a wound and more like a foundation. A place to build something new, if he was brave enough to try.