There was not a single thing in the world that Harry took for granted, not anymore. Not Quidditch, not his friends, not his safety, not even his own life, though that had not ended despite his efforts to the contrary. But there were some things he was used to, such as the current atmosphere in the wizarding world, which was probably confusing for most but oddly normal from his perspective. He had come back, and very few things had changed. The things that had changed, he'd experienced firsthand, so they were no surprise to him. And if the weight on his conscience from the lives that had been lost had gotten heavier, it was countered by the lifting of responsibility from his shoulders, the mission for Dumbledore that had now ended.
But this - he had forgotten about this. He hadn't even missed it, not really; it hadn't even crossed his mind in years. When he'd been on the run, he'd longed to see people, wished to sleep in a warm bed, imagined a full meal, hoped for the feeling of completion and the comforts of home. It seemed completely incomprehensible to him now that he hadn't been longing for this.
"Yes," he said, looking down at the broom in the hand that wasn't holding on to Ginny's. He let go of her hand to hold his broom in both hands, looking at it as if he wasn't quite sure it would hold him, but decided to trust it. His Firebolt had never let him down.
He mounted his broom, and hovered for a few moments just off the ground. He'd half expected it to feel unnatural, but it didn't; after all these years, it still felt as instinctive and normal as it had the very first time he'd tried it. A slow grin spread over his face, and he directed it at Ginny before soaring upward.
The wind rushed by him, cooling his cheeks and murmuring in his ears, and the adrenaline of flight made his blood sing in his veins with the joy of it. No matter what had been going on at Hogwarts, he'd been able to forget about all of it when he flew, to leave it behind him in the current of air that he was leaving behind. He started to laugh, and the sound was carried away from him almost immediately as he picked up speed, flattening himself against his broom as he raced to circle the pitch, before going into a dive. He came easily back out of it, and then slowed to a stop, looking down at the pitch and over at Ginny.
Oh, this was brilliant. He didn't know how he'd forgotten, but the remembering was too joyful for him to care.