CHAPTER TWELVE

Finally, the day had arrived. Fred had spent weeks working up the courage to confront Nimah, and now here he was, standing before her with his heart racing like a snitch in a Quidditch match.

"You know," Nimah said slowly, her voice a dangerous mix of calm and menace, "nothing is holding me back right this moment, Fredrick Weasley." Her eyes narrowed, and Fred instinctively recoiled, feeling an ominous chill run down his spine.

To say she looked ready to hex him into oblivion would be an understatement.

Fred swallowed hard, nervously drumming his fingers against his thigh. He held back the very real urge to turn and bolt down the corridor. Nearly half a month of avoiding her hadn't been enough to prepare him for this moment.

"Y-you're right," he stammered, his voice shaky. "Nothing's holding you back."

Nimah tilted her head, the gesture more threatening than he thought possible. "I'm so glad we're on the same page," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Now, I'll give you...let's say a few minutes before I take my wand out and actually hex you."

Fred let out a nervous laugh, trying to buy himself some time, but Nimah's piercing glare made it clear that time was running out. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment before finally beginning.

"I wanted to respect your way of coping, Nimah," he said, his voice soft but earnest. "I really did. But I can't...I can't pretend it's all okay. I can't promise to do that for you." His words started tumbling out faster now, his emotions finally taking the lead. "If you hadn't taken that fall for me—"

"Don't say it," Nimah interrupted sharply, her hands beginning to tremble. Her voice faltered, but her determination was clear. "Don't you dare say it."

Fred ignored her warning, his hand reaching out to take hers. Her fingers were cold and shaky against his palm, but he held on tightly. "I know nothing I say will change what happened," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. "But what's the point of me continuing with our dream if it's not...ours?"

Nimah's shoulders sagged, and for a moment, all the fire in her seemed to drain away. The weight of his words hit her like a bludger. Of course, she had never forgotten their shared dream. But she'd convinced herself that Fred would be fine without her, that he'd move on and thrive even if she couldn't. Hearing him confess otherwise shattered that illusion.

"Fred..." she began softly, but he didn't let her finish.

"It's selfish of me," Fred continued, his eyes locking onto hers, unflinching. "I know I didn't lose my ability to chase the dream. But, Nimah...I don't even know if I can do it without you."

The sincerity in his voice left her speechless. She'd never expected to hear those words from him. All this time, she'd thought he was the strong one, the one who would carry on without looking back. But to Fred, the dream wasn't his. It wasn't hers. It was theirs.

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the faint rustling of air.

"Can't you see the pattern here?" came a high-pitched, sing-song voice above them. Both Fred and Nimah snapped their heads up to see Peeves hovering upside down, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "You two think it's your own fault."

"Peeves," they said in unison, their exasperation palpable.

The poltergeist's grin widened as he floated down in a slow spiral. "Aren't ya both tired of takin' the blame for somethin' ya didn't even have control over?" he asked, his voice taking on an uncharacteristic edge of seriousness. "Idiots, I say! The lot of ya!" With a dramatic huff, Peeves swooped down between them, leaving behind his signature mischievous laugh.

"Did Peeves..." Nimah started, her brows furrowing.

"Just scold us?" Fred finished, his expression equally bewildered.

"Oh, that little pest has his moments," came a new voice, low and echoing. They turned to see the Bloody Baron materializing from the shadows, his ghostly form shimmering faintly in the dim light. "Rare as they may be, take his words to heart."

Fred blinked. "Are you actually agreeing with Peeves?" he asked incredulously.

The Baron inclined his head solemnly. "Indeed. While you may find his delivery lacking, his message is sound. You two—both of you—must stop burdening yourselves with guilt over what cannot be changed." He paused, his spectral gaze sweeping between them. "Dreams forged together do not die alone. They live on, tied to both of you...until the very end."

His words hung in the air, profound and haunting.

As the Baron faded back into the shadows, Fred and Nimah were left to process the truth in his words. It wasn't just about forgiving themselves—it was about letting go of the pattern they'd fallen into. The endless cycle of self-pity, guilt, and avoidance had to end.

The question now was whether they had the courage to break free of it. Could they finally stop resisting the truth? Or would they continue to let the past define them?

For the first time in weeks, Fred and Nimah exchanged a look of tentative understanding. It wasn't a resolution—not yet—but it was a start. There was a vulnerability in their shared gaze, an unspoken acknowledgement of the wounds they both carried. They had spent so much time building walls around their pain that this small step forward felt monumental.

Fred cleared his throat awkwardly, breaking the moment but not the fragile connection. "So," he began, scratching the back of his neck, "does this mean you won't hex me? At least for today?"

Nimah's lips twitched, the beginnings of a smirk fighting to surface. "Don't push your luck, Weasley," she replied, her voice softer than she intended. Her words carried a hint of teasing, but they lacked the sharp edge they usually held.

Fred grinned, some of the tension lifting from his shoulders. "Noted. I'll consider that progress." He hesitated, glancing down at their hands—still clasped together. "Look, I know I've been...a prat. Avoiding you, not knowing what to say. But I want to fix this—us—if you'll let me."

Nimah sighed, her gaze drifting to the floor. Her fingers tightened briefly around his before pulling away. "I don't know if it's that simple, Fred. I mean, where do we even start?"

Fred tilted his head thoughtfully, his expression softening. "Maybe we start by just...talking. No expectations, no pressure. Just you and me. Like old times."

The mention of "old times" made Nimah's chest ache, but not in the same suffocating way it had before. It was a bittersweet ache, one laced with a sliver of hope. "Talking," she echoed, a small, uncertain smile tugging at her lips. "I think I can manage that."

Fred's grin widened, a spark of his usual mischief returning. "Good. And maybe after that, we can figure out how to properly scare Peeves. Payback, you know."

Nimah raised an eyebrow. "For what? Being the unexpected voice of reason?"

"For making me admit my feelings in public," Fred shot back with a mock huff. "That poltergeist has no sense of decorum."

A genuine laugh escaped Nimah before she could stop it, and for the first time in what felt like ages, the heaviness between them lightened. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't everything. But it was enough—for now.

As they began to walk, side by side, the unspoken promise lingered in the space between them. They would take it one step at a time, no matter how long it took. After all, some dreams were worth rebuilding, even if it meant starting from scratch.