That's one of the stupidest ideas Ginny has ever had, but like all of her stupid ideas, she is too stubborn to withdraw.

Harry is walking at her side, throwing glances at her that mix challenge and exasperation with just a touch of concern. For someone that she knows has a bit of a saving-people thing, he seems to be enjoying this situation too much.

Of course he does. He has already done it - twice - and survived.

Sometimes it's not easy when your boyfriend has a hero-complex that got him into too many adventures. Especially if you are someone who also loves taking risks.

'Do you know how to do this?', Harry asks, and she loves that the worry in his voice is directed at helping her, not stopping her.

'I've done it before', she says nonchalantly, hoping her voice doesn't betray any fear. 'Part of it at least'.

Well, she is telling the truth. She had already met Buckbeak - or Witherwings, if she must -, but then it had been on a room with the door opened behind her and with Sirius holding the hippogriff, so she never felt in danger then.

Of course, now the situation is completely different.

They reach Hagrid's hut and the hippogriff is there, quietly patting the grass, looking even a little bit bored. He looks like he will enjoy some flying, but still, looking at his sharp talons, she thinks of how Fred and George will laugh themselves to death when they hear she died trying to tame a hippogriff.

No, they will laugh when they hear she died because she couldn't resist proving herself to Romilda Vane, of all people.

'Just be respectful', Harry is reminding her, and she nods in concentration. She remembers Sirius telling her to bow down politely and wait for the hippogriff to do the next move. She takes a deep breath and starts walking forward; but then a thought comes to her mind and she turns back sharply.

Without hesitation, she takes the three steps that separate her from Harry and kisses him fully in the mouth.

If he is surprised, Harry doesn't show - he seems always available for a good snog, more at ease with public displays of affection than she ever thought he could, as if all he thinks all the time is of kissing her too.

It was supposed to be her kissing him, but Harry easily gets the upper hand; his hands hold her face gently, his fingers caressing her cheek as his lips move over hers softly and demandingly and Ginny is out of breath when she breaks apart.

Nothing unusual. Kissing Harry always draws away all breath and worries from her body.

'Wow', she sighs, smiling happily, for the first time that afternoon less worried about facing a hippogriff.

'Wow', he repeats dazedly, as if he wasn't the one to kiss spectacularly his girlfriend. 'What was that for?'

For a moment she thinks of saying it was like a last kiss - one for if things went wrong - but then Harry might take that too serious.

'Good luck', she says instead, winking at him, and then marching resolutely to the hippogriff.

Buckbeak still looks menacing, but kissing Harry always brings light and an added touch of his bravery to her, so Ginny breathes slowly and bows to the hippogriff, keeping eye contact with the beast's yellow eyes. Looking at him causes a sudden wave of longing for Sirius, who had been so nice to her - he too understood having some darkness stuck on your head sometimes.

Perhaps Buckbeak remembers meeting her before or perhaps she is able to pass on her respect because after a few seconds he bows down to her and she advances with a smile to caress his feathery head, until she touches his back.

Her heart beats faster, but it's adrenaline, more than fear, and she thinks of the first time she ever flew when she was seven. She could do it then, she can do it now.

'We could ask a saddle for Hagrid', Harry says coming at her side, after just bowing to Buckbeak.

'Did you need one?'

'No, but I was smaller'.

Ginny scoffs.

'I am not that bigger than you were at thirteen, Harry. If you did it I can do too'.

Harry throws her an amused look, but he just nods. He is probably thinking that in the list of every crazy thing he ever did, at least she is asking to repeat one of the less dangerous.

It's not because he has already done it that she wants to do too. Well, it kind of is, but not really. It's all Romilda Bloody Vane's fault.

Ever since Romilda asked her about the tattoo on Harry's chest and Ginny told her it was a dragon, Romilda had been annoying her, insisting she was wrong. Apparently Witch Weekly has an article describing a hippogriff, and despite the fact that Ginny already saw Harry's chest - and is very much in a position to deny any tattoo -, Romilda didn't believe her.

'I bet you never even saw a hippogriff before. You could never fly one into sunset like Harry did, so dreamy -'

McGonagall had appeared then, stopping Ginny from hexing Romilda - she couldn't afford detention, not when it would lessen the time she had with Harry - and Ginny was left fuming for the rest of her classes, unable to even say Harry had flown during morning daylight.

And that was why she had dragged her boyfriend to Hagrid's hut right before dinner, explaining quickly what she intended to do. Harry had agreed quite easily with her - he always enjoyed good mischief and even more if it involved some time alone with her.

'Hey, Buckbeak', she says reassuringly to the hippogriff. 'We will just go for a flight, ok? No biting or making me fall, what kind of a Quidditch player I would look like then?'

She is not sure if he understood her, but the hippogriff nods slightly, his head inclined to her. She touches his head again, with fondness, before sitting on his back. It's not very comfortable and she looks helpless at the feathery head, wondering where is supposed to hold; before she can decide it, however, Buckbeak takes flight and she grabs his neck hurriedly.

After the first three seconds of panic, she lets out an exhilarating cry. Buckbeak has gone up faster than she could on her broom, and there is something beautiful in the way his wings are spread, in the balance of the flight. It's not like how she feels on a broom - she likes to be in control - but it has some freedom too. She had never flown outside the Quidditch field on Hogwarts before and now they are gliding over the Forbidden Forest.

She looks down and she thinks she sees the small dot that is Harry looking in her direction. A sudden thought comes to her and she smirks.

'Hey, Buckbeak', she says, bending down to talk to him. 'What do you say we take Harry on this flight with us?'

Buckbeak makes a sound that looks like agreement before he slides toward the ground, with Ginny trying to hold on to his neck and not fall over his head. It's exciting, though, so she is laughing uncontrollably when they land softly.

'Ginny! That was -'

'Come on!', she says grinning, offering him her hand. 'Come fly with me'.

'You know we could do it on a broomstick, right?'

Buckbeak makes an indignant sound.

'Look, you are offending him', she says playfully, stroking Buckbeak's neck. 'He is just playing, Buckbeak, you are much more friendly than any broom'.

The hippogriff makes a happy sound now.

Harry raises his brows at her.

'Making friends?'

'We and Buckbeak get along very well. Now come on, it's a beautiful sunset out there'.

There is the slightest hesitation in Harry, that seems to disappear the minute he sits behind her, and his hands close over her waist instead of holding on to the hippogriff. Ginny lays her back against his chest and Harry breathes in slowly - she knows he is feeling her perfume, as he likes to do. She can hear his heart beating faster even before the hippogriff takes flight with them.

It's different being well above ground with Harry, feeling his body close to her, his lips occasionally pressing a soft kiss on her neck that cause goosebumps that have nothing to do with the cold air. Even Buckbeak seems to know this flight is supposed to be softer. He soars slowly, taking them towards the lake, where they have a gorgeous vision of the sun setting behind the mountains, bathing the sky in pink and orange and red, while the lake reflects the Hogwarts castle.

'How did you know about hippogriffs?', he asks her in a low voice. She bits her lips before answering.

'Sirius taught me', says Ginny, glancing at him for his reaction. Harry smiles with just a little touch of sadness.

'Of course'.

She hesitates, wondering if she should say more, but she thinks Harry would like to hear.

'Sirius always told me that he wished Buckbeak could be out there flying again'.

'He would be glad then… he escaped Hogwarts once on Buckbeak's back, did you know?' She nods and Harry chuckles easily. 'I think it's the kind of adventure he and my dad would have approved'.

She takes his hand, entwining their fingers, and Harry raises their hands to press a soft kiss on hers.

'At least Buckbeak is free now'. There is a short pause. 'Luna once told me that people we love are just waiting for us - like behind a veil, and we will see them again. Do you think it's true?'

She never thought about it, but then again death isn't always threatening her as it seems to happen with Harry. Still, when she thinks of Harry, she is always amazed at the way his eyes are flashing and shining and so obviously impressed by the fact he is alive. She cannot picture a world in which his heart isn't beating, in which his eyes aren't sparkling with the possibilities.

But since none of them is immortal, one day - in the distant future, she hopes - they will all be gone. And then… it cannot be just this. There's got to be more.

'Luna is usually right. She is of the smartest people I've known'.

He nods solemnly, and she feels another wave of affection for him, for the way Harry obviously cares for Luna too.

'I hope wherever he is, Sirius is seeing this too', Harry whispers. 'It's amazing'

Harry sighs, and Ginny wonders when was the last time he stopped to see the sunset - if he ever did it at all.

She glances back at him. There is a wondrous expression on his face as he takes the view, as if he is surprised he gets to see such a spectacle of nature; he looks so pure and endearing.

And then Harry looks at her, their eyes meeting, and the wonder in his face doesn't change. He looks at her softly and - if she dares to think of it - in love.

He opens his mouth, his eyes not leaving her, but no sound comes out. His hand raises to touch her face, putting behind her ear all the strands of hair that escaped her ponytail, with such tenderness that she thinks she doesn't really need him to say what he is feeling.

It's written on his eyes and it's a reflection of what she feels.

She doesn't know who moves first - at this point, after weeks of dating, she and Harry's thoughts are usually in synchrony - but then they are kissing, fifty feet above the ground, the cool wind blowing around them, soaring in the air on the wings of a hippogriff.

Her hands cup his face and Harry's hands are buried in her hair, holding her neck to keep her close to him and a part of Ginny thinks it's risky what they are doing, none of them holding on to the hippogriff. Any change in the wind, any movement, and they might fall.

But Ginny thinks she has already fallen.

The sky is already purple and greyish blue when they return to the ground. She strokes Buckbeak's head once more, thanking him for the ride, and she turns to Harry with a grin that he matches without even thinking about it as if he cannot resist her joyfulness.

'So', she begins, taking his hand and looking mischievously at him. 'How do you feel about flying on a Hungarian Horntail now?'