Hinny

The air at Hogwarts usually smelled of old stone, damp earth, and the faint, metallic tang of magic, but on the Quidditch pitch, it smelled like freedom. The sun was dipping below the Forbidden Forest, painting the sky in violent streaks of violet and burnt orange. It was the kind of evening that felt heavy with expectation, though Ginny Weasley was doing her best to ignore it.

She was currently hovering fifty feet in the air, her broom vibrating slightly between her knees. She wasn’t practicing; she was simply watching the shadows lengthen across the grass. Below her, a lone figure was doing laps around the goalposts, the scarlet of his Gryffindor robes a blur against the darkening green.

Harry Potter was many things—the Boy Who Lived, a Chosen One, a magnet for trouble—but to Ginny, he was currently just a distraction she was trying very hard not to overthink. Their kiss in the common room after the Quidditch Cup had been the talk of the school for weeks, yet they hadn't quite found the words to define what they were. They were simply... Harry and Ginny.

Harry pulled out of a steep dive, his hair windblown and messy even by his standards. He caught sight of her and pulled his broom upward, leveling out until he was floating just a few feet away. His glasses were slightly askew, and his green eyes were bright with the adrenaline of flight.

"You're late for dinner," Harry said, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ron’s probably already polished off the mashed potatoes. There won't be a scrap left for us."

Ginny rolled her eyes, pushing a stray lock of red hair behind her ear. "Ron eats like the floor is going to open up and swallow the table at any moment. Besides, I’m not hungry. I like it up here when it’s quiet. No fans, no gossip, no siblings asking me if I’ve seen their missing socks."

Harry laughed, moving his broom closer. "I know the feeling. It’s the only place where people don’t stare at my forehead."

"I don't stare at your forehead," Ginny countered, her voice dropping to a teasing lilt. "I mostly stare at your terrible posture. You slouch when you’re worried, did you know that?"

"I do not slouch," Harry protested, immediately straightening his spine.

"You're doing it right now because I mentioned it," she pointed out, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Very brave of you, Harry. Facing down Dark Lords but defeated by a comment about your shoulders."

Harry shook his head, looking down at his hands on the broom handle. The playful banter was easy, but there was a tension underneath it tonight, something that made the air feel electric. He looked back up at her, his expression softening.

"Ginny," he started, his voice losing its teasing edge.

"Yes, Harry?"

"I’ve been thinking," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Which is usually a sign of trouble, I know."

"Usually," she agreed, though her heart had begun to pick up speed. "Should I get Madam Pomfrey on standby? Or perhaps Professor McGonagall?"

"Shut up," Harry said, though there was no heat in it. He took a deep breath, his gaze steadying on hers. "Everything is about to get very complicated. With the war, and Dumbledore... there’s a lot I have to do. A lot I can’t tell people yet."

Ginny’s expression shifted, the playfulness vanishing to reveal the steel underneath. "I’m not 'people,' Harry. And I’m not some delicate flower that’s going to wilt because things get difficult. I grew up with six brothers; I’ve been hit by more hexes than you’ve had hot dinners."

"I know you aren't," Harry said quickly. "That’s exactly the point. You’re... you’re Ginny. You’re brilliant, and you’re terrifying when you’re angry, and you’re the only person who doesn't treat me like a museum exhibit."

He steered his broom even closer, until their knees were almost touching. The wind died down, leaving them in a pocket of absolute silence high above the ground.

"I don’t want to just 'see how it goes,'" Harry continued, his voice low and intense. "I don’t want to wonder if you’re waiting for someone else, or if I’m just a passing fancy because I caught a Snitch once. I want everyone to know. Mostly, I want you to know."

Ginny felt a flutter in her chest that had nothing to do with the height. "Know what, exactly? You’re being uncharacteristically articulate, Potter. Don't stop now."

Harry reached out, his fingers brushing against her hand on the broomstick. "I want you to be my girlfriend. Officially. No more dancing around it, no more 'are they or aren't they.' I want to be the one you go to Hogsmeade with, and the one who sits next to you at dinner, and the one who gets to tell Ron to mind his own business when he looks at us funny."

Ginny stared at him for a long beat. The sunset had faded to a deep indigo, and the first few stars were beginning to blink into existence. She felt a surge of that fierce independence that defined her. She didn't need Harry Potter to protect her, and she didn't need him to complete her. But she wanted him.

"You realize what you’re signing up for, don't you?" Ginny asked, her voice steady. "I’m not going to sit in a corner and pine while you go off being a hero. If you’re with me, you’re with all of me. I have my own opinions, my own temper, and I’m probably a better Seeker than you on a good day."

Harry grinned, a genuine, lopsided smile that reached his eyes. "I’m counting on it. Especially the part about the temper. It keeps me on my toes."

"And Ron?" she asked. "He might actually explode. Literally. His head might just pop right off his shoulders."

"I’ll buy him a new one," Harry joked. "Or we can just tell him together. I think he already knows, honestly. He’s just waiting for me to be brave enough to say it out loud."

Ginny leaned forward, her face inches from his. "Well, you said it. Does that mean you’re feeling brave?"

"Terrified," Harry admitted, his eyes fixed on her lips. "But mostly certain."

Ginny didn't wait for him to make the next move. She leaned across the gap between their brooms, her hand reaching out to grab the front of his robes to steady herself. She kissed him, a firm, sure movement that tasted like the cold evening air and the promise of something solid.

When they pulled apart, Harry looked slightly dazed, his glasses now definitely crooked.

"I'll take that as a yes?" he whispered.

"It’s a yes, Harry," Ginny said, her voice warm. "But if you ever try to 'protect' me by leaving me behind without a choice, I will hex you into the next century. Understood?"

Harry laughed, a sound of pure relief. "Understood. I wouldn't dream of it. I value my skin too much."

They hovered there for a moment longer, two figures suspended between earth and sky, before Harry gestured toward the ground.

"We really should go down," he said. "The Great Hall will be closing soon, and I’m fairly sure Hermione will have started a search party if we don't show up."

"Let’s give them something to talk about then," Ginny said, a wicked glint in her eyes.

She kicked her broom into a sudden, steep dive, spiraling toward the grass at a breakneck speed. Harry let out a shout of surprise and immediately followed, his Firebolt cutting through the air as he chased her. They raced each other to the ground, the wind whistling past their ears, the weight of the world feeling just a little bit lighter than it had an hour ago.

They touched down near the equipment shed, their boots thudding onto the soft turf. As they dismounted, Harry reached out and took her hand. His palm was warm, and his grip was firm.

Ginny looked down at their joined hands, then up at Harry. "Ready for the gauntlet? The common room is going to be a nightmare."

"As long as I’m with you," Harry said, his voice full of a sassiness that usually only came out when he was talking back to Snape, "I think I can handle a few gawking second-years and your brother’s face turning the color of a beet."

"That’s my Harry," Ginny laughed, squeezing his hand.

They walked back toward the castle, shoulder to shoulder. The path was dark, lit only by the flickering torches of the entrance hall in the distance, but for the first time in a long time, the shadows didn't seem so threatening.

As they entered the castle, the warmth of the interior hit them. Students were milling about, heading back from dinner. When they passed a group of Hufflepuffs, several heads turned, whispers breaking out immediately.

Harry didn't flinch. He didn't drop her hand. In fact, he pulled her slightly closer as they climbed the marble staircase.

"Look at them," Ginny murmured. "You’d think they’d never seen a couple before."

"They haven't seen the Gryffindor Quidditch captain and the star Chaser together," Harry replied, winking at her. "It’s a lot for them to process."

"Oh, shut up," Ginny said, though she was smiling.

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. She looked down at them, her eyes widening as they landed on their linked fingers.

"Password?" she asked, her voice sounding rather faint.

"Mimbulus mimbletonia," Harry said clearly.

The portrait swung forward, revealing the crowded, noisy interior of the Gryffindor common room. The moment they stepped through the hole, the volume seemed to dip. Ron and Hermione were sitting by the fire, a game of wizard’s chess between them.

Ron looked up, his mouth opening to likely ask where they had been, but his gaze fell directly on their hands. He froze, a knight hovering mid-air in his hand. Hermione, on the other hand, simply smiled, a look of immense satisfaction crossing her face as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"About time," Hermione said quietly, though it carried across the room.

Harry looked at Ginny, and Ginny looked at Harry. The firelight reflected in his glasses, and for a moment, the fame and the scars and the prophecy didn't matter.

"Yeah," Harry said, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "About time."

Ginny leaned her head against his shoulder for a brief second before pulling him toward the empty chairs by the fire. She felt the eyes of the room on them, but she didn't care. She was Ginny Weasley, she was a fierce flyer, an independent spirit, and she was exactly where she wanted to be.

As they sat down, Ron finally found his voice. "So... I take it the 'practicing' went well?"

"Excellent practice, Ron," Ginny said, her eyes sparkling. "We worked on our coordination. It’s vital for the team, you know."

Harry grinned, leaning back in his chair, still refusing to let go of her hand. "The best practice I’ve had all year."

The common room eventually returned to its usual roar of conversation, the shock of the new couple fading into the background of school life. But for Harry and Ginny, everything had changed. The world outside the walls of Hogwarts was still darkening, and the shadows were still growing, but in the circle of firelight, they had found something worth fighting for.

Harry squeezed her hand one last time before reaching for a plate of leftover sandwiches Hermione had saved for them.

"You know," Harry whispered, leaning toward her. "I think I could get used to this."

"You'd better," Ginny replied, her voice filled with that familiar, fiery confidence. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

And as the night wore on, the boy who had always been alone realized that for the first time in his life, he didn't have to be brave all by himself. He had Ginny, and Ginny had him, and that was more powerful than any magic they taught in books.