She's such a troll at times, pushing him, jerking his touchy sensibilities. Harry can't help but laugh at her bravado, though, because it's so like her. He oomphs when she swats at his ass but lets her have her head start on her broom. (You have to cut pregnant women some slack, right? Merlin's tits though, a child. His child. The thought is both terrifying and exciting at the same time.)

Harry grabs his own broom and is on it just as swiftly as her and screaming through the air to catch her up. There's no way he's going to actually beat her around pitch. She trains daily and he's only on broom when he has the time.

But it doesn't stop him from trying.