Harry didn't mind that his Firebolt was out of date, and didn't begrudge Ginny for having a newer one. He had a sentimental attachment to his broom, because of what they'd been through together, because of who had gifted it to him. He would keep using his Firebolt until it couldn't fly any longer, and even then, he'd still keep it. He had managed to lose most of the shattered remains of his Nimbus when he'd been forced to leave his trunk behind at Hogwarts years ago, because of how unwieldy it had been. But he was pretty sure there were a few splinters of the handle or fibers from the broom somewhere in his belongings, and it had a special place in his heart and memory regardless.
Excitement was already humming in his veins when she Apparated them, cheek tingling from where she'd kissed him, his heart warmed from the presence of his broom in his hand and his memories associated with it. But he forgot those things for a moment when they landed, looking up at the pitch in astonishment and no small amount of awe.