Subject Line: Challenge (January)
Title: Midnight Flight
Summary: Middle of the night in the Potter household, and Harry reminisces about the past.
Author's Notes: Written for the January challenge on LiveJournal's hpgw_drabbles community. The prompt used is a picture of Harry and Ginny flying on a broom together. And, I've been advised to add a tissue-warning, so, consider yourself warned.
Harry blearily fumbled for his glasses and checked the time on the clock next to the bed. 1:25 AM. He groaned and slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, disentangling himself from Ginny's arm as per normal. Ever since he had turned out to not be dead during the Final Battle, they had found every reason in the book to touch, to reaffirm life. Over the years it had become so habitual that they barely realized they were doing it, and their friends and family had never really commented on it, knowing what it really meant.
He eventually made his way to his feet and shuffled off towards the restroom. Growing old really sucks, Harry thought to himself. Being a teen-ager, especially with Ginny had been ever so much more fun. He remembered having all the energy and enthusiasm they had needed, for running, and talking, and laughing, and snogging. And playing Quidditch--that had been stellar. But as the years had worn on, and those around them had started looking a little older, although never Ginny, they had started to realize that their bodies, too, were doomed to fail at some point.
Harry finished his business and slowly made his way back towards the bed and his beautiful wife. She lay there, arm stretched toward his side as if searching. She was gorgeous, age hadn't diminished her beauty--instead it had turned her from a spunky, smart, pretty girl to a feisty, incredibly intelligent, and absolutely stunning woman. Harry couldn't imagine life without her--the years before they had met seemed to have been pages from someone else's rather sad life--and knew beyond any shadow of doubt that he was only complete when she was with him. They had spent their lives dedicated to each other, and he had no regrets. Raising their children together, then seeing them, in turn, spawn more generations, was one of Harry's most treasured memories. From a family of just one, the Potters had grown to be hundreds in number, and respected in both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. Harry was very proud of his family's legacy, and Ginny was even more happy than he was to have been an important part of it.
He sat down, creakily, on the edge of the bed, pondering the thoughts that inevitably came during his nighttime wanderings. Tonight they seemed more poignant than normal, for no discernible reason. It wasn't an anniversary of anything that he could remember. Nothing too significant had happened the previous day, except going to see the game between the Harpies and the Magpies, a Potter clan tradition. Perhaps that had sparked the nostalgia in Harry. It had been such a long time since he or Ginny had been able to really fly, maybe he was feeling slightly sad about that? No, Harry thought, or at least, not precisely that. Watching the Quidditch match had made him think that maybe they could take some time to try flying when all the family had gone home. He smiled, remembering the wicked grin that Ginny had worn when he'd told her his idea. It had taken forever for the house to clear out, but after they were alone, they had snuck out, on tiptoes, just like guilty children, to the broomshed.
A light chuckle escaped his lips. The flight hadn't lasted very long, as they were old enough to be concerned about safety. But the feeling of wind in his hair, and Ginny's arms wrapped around him, was about as close to heaven as he could imagine. No, he thought to himself, there was that one time. . . If Ginny had been awake, he would have teased her about it. It was just sheer luck that Hermione, not Ron, had found them, bruised, slightly bloody, laughing hysterically, completely naked, and possessed of new insights as to why it was impractical to make love while flying.
Tap, tap, tap. His musings were interrupted by something at the window. What the devil!? Harry thought. Nobody owls at this time of night! He peered more closely at the window. Is that. . .? It can't be--it was broken before Ginny started with the Harpies! But it was.
"Ginny! Ginny, wake up!" Harry didn't know how this could have happened, but he needed Ginny to confirm what he was seeing.
"Harry. . ." she drowsily whinged, "I'm too tired right now. I promise I'll let you--"
"No, Gin, it's not that!" he interrupted, although he felt himself respond quickly to the thought, a surprising return of the youthful vigor that he'd lost long ago. "Look! At the window!"
Ginny sat up in response, and peered blearily at the glass. "Harry?" she half-whispered. "Is that your Firebolt? Wasn't it destroyed?"
"Yeah, it is. I don't know how it's here, but I'm sure of it!" Harry excitedly jumped to his feet, not noticing the thump as of something heavy falling to the floor, or the resulting gasp of shock from Ginny. "Come on! Maybe there's a note on it, or something!" He reached out to take his wife's hand, and Ginny looked up at him in fear, then happiness. She tentatively placed hers in his, smiled brilliantly, and found herself next to him. Together, they quickly walked to the window and threw up the sash.
Floating silently, yet, somehow, eagerly outside their window was Harry's Firebolt, clean and sparkling, just as it had been when he had first seen it, so long ago.
Harry turned to his wife. "Well? Do you want to go for another ride? The moon's rather bright, and I'm sure we have enough time. . ."
Ginny grinned at the eagerness on his face, and chose to just answer his question. "Yes, Harry, I'll fly anywhere with you. And I think you're right--we have all the time in the world."
And together, the two teens climbed aboard the broom, and flew off into the night sky, leaving their old, tired, battle-weary bodies in the bed behind them.
A/N: Regarding the title. Midnight Flight was the perfect title for this. I know it didn't really take place at midnight, but the title refers not to time-of-day, but rather time-of-life, of which Midnight would be the close thereof.