After All, Harry

the cracked quaffle

Like all things in Ginny and Harry's relationship began, their engagement surely had to start with Quidditch?

Ginny got home with Hermione to a seemingly empty house, with Hermione making an odd excuse about Crookshanks 2.0 needing a bath and taking off almost as soon as they'd gotten to the house.

Ginny shrugged off her jacket on a coat hanger she'd insisted on because it reminded her of Tonks and the one time she tripped over the one in her room. Harry had bought it almost immediately. She smiled at the memory it brought her of Tonks and the older sister she felt that she was. It was bittersweet.

She walked down the hall, calling out, "Harry? I'm home! Where've you been?" Ginny looked around until she stumbled into him.

She stood back and pretended to dust herself off, laughing. "What're doing alone in the house in the dark? You're not an owl."

Harry chuckled, but Ginny could tell something was off.

He seemed nervous—sort of shy. When her relationship with Harry came to mind, shy wasn't something that popped up. Sure, Harry was a very sarcastic and shy person. He was generally an awkward person—but not with her. She made a note to ask him about it later, maybe he had something on his mind.

Harry put an arm around her suddenly, "Why don't we go outside?"

"Outside?" Ginny asked incredulously, "It's almost dark out, and we barely have any lights!" Harry gave her a look.

"Are you not a witch, Gin? Lumos." Harry pulled out his wand from his back pocket and flicked it just barely. A bright light shown from his wand, and Ginny rolled her eyes, letting Harry lead her outside. She grinned.

"Well, it's just that sometimes I seem to forget." Ginny replied, nudging Harry in the side. Harry smiled, and he led Ginny around the garden area and near the shed.

"Why don't we play quidditch?" Harry said randomly, opening the door to the shed and taking out a broom. It was the Firebolt Sirius had gotten him, and although now it was slightly outdated, Harry refused to buy a replacement.

Ginny rose an eyebrow, "Quidditch? At night? You're a funny man, Potter."

"I'm funny? You forgot you were a witch." Harry retorted, sticking his tongue out at her.

"Touché."

Taking this as a sign of agreement, Harry grabbed Ginny's broom and tossed it to her. Ginny could feel a grin pulling at her lips as she mounted the broom. Even though she practiced with her team six days a week, it was still a bit more fun to play quidditch with Harry and her brothers. It reminded her of old times.

Playing Quidditch was incredibly therapeutic—especially when you do it with someone you love. And for Ginny, playing with Harry just made her forget about everything but the game and him. It was peaceful. She could smell the sweet trees and the dewy grass that always made her feel at home as she rushed around on her broom. It was exhilarating, and the feel of her hair being blown back from the wind really made her appreciate flying so much more.

They were playing around with a beater's bat Harry had taken out, noting that Ginny's played as a Chaser, Seeker and even a Keeper when one of her teammates was sick. He joked, "What if you've got to fill in all positions? Better to be prepared."

"You're an idiot," Ginny smiled, tossing the bat from arm to arm. She remembered that once Fred and George had gotten over their little sister playing Quidditch, they'd begun to show her tricks, but something that never stuck was beating.

They were tossing back and forth, and Ginny was hitting the ball directly back at Harry. It felt nice, and Ginny could feel the endorphins from the exercise rushing in, pumping in her blood. It was this feeling that made her keep playing every single year.