CHAPTER FOURTEEN

When it came to Quidditch, Nimah found it increasingly difficult to step foot near the pitch, let alone sit through a match. The familiar sounds of cheers, the crack of bats against Bludgers, and the echoing roar of the crowd only dredged up memories she would rather forget. Each game reminded her of what she had lost, of the career she had once envisioned so clearly but could no longer pursue. Reliving that pain was unbearable, so she chose to stay behind during matches. However, that didn't mean she wasn't supportive. From the quiet of the common room or a secluded corner of the library, Nimah would send her best wishes to her former team and childhood friends, hoping her words reached them on the field.

Fred, true to his promise, continued to chase the dream they had once envisioned together. He trained harder than ever, dedicating himself to the sport they both loved. While Nimah couldn't be in the stands, her unwavering belief in him served as an invisible presence. He clung to her words, replaying them like a mantra before every match: "One day, I'll be able to be in the stands and cheering you on."

Those words, simple yet profound, became a source of strength for Fred. Though she wasn't physically there to support him, the promise she made gave him the push he needed to step onto the pitch with confidence. For now, her encouragement was all he needed to keep going, to honour their shared dream by giving it everything he had.

Of course, James wasn't about to let Fred get too sentimental about it. As one of his closest friends and cousins, James seemed to take it upon himself to keep Fred—and Nimah—on their toes with relentless teasing. With Fred and Nimah finally shedding the tension that had hung over them for weeks, James felt it was his duty to restore their dynamic to what it had always been: a mix of camaraderie, chaos, and merciless banter.

On the day of Gryffindor's match against Ravenclaw, James leaned casually on his broomstick, swaying slightly as he balanced it on the ground. His mischievous grin was firmly in place as he eyed Fred. "You know, Captain," he began, his tone dripping with mockery, "I wonder what Nimah would think if she saw you smiling like that. She'd probably think you've gone soft."

The Gryffindor team burst into laughter, with some of them whistling and hooting in agreement. James capitalized on the moment, high-fiving his teammates with exaggerated enthusiasm.

Fred rolled his eyes as he adjusted his gloves. "The next time I need an unsolicited and uninformed opinion, James, I'll be sure to come to you first."

James pouted dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "Oh, Frederick, they've got a special place for charming lads like you. A real shame I can't visit."

Fred chuckled, giving him a light pat on the shoulder. "That's the best you've got? I expected more."

"Not even close, cousin," James replied, winking. "I've got plenty more in store. But don't worry—I'll save the good stuff for when Nimah's around. She enjoys a good laugh at your expense."

Before Fred could respond, a pair of gloves flew out of nowhere, smacking James squarely on the head.

"James Sirius Potter, leave him alone!" Elodie, James's girlfriend but Fred' best mate, appeared beside him, flicking his ear with a stern glare. James, usually quick with a retort, was uncharacteristically silent, his cheeks tinged with pink.

Fred smirked, grateful for the reprieve. "Thanks for bringing his gloves, El. It's always a pleasure watching you put him in his place."

Elodie grinned before turning serious. "By the way, I've got a message for you from Nimah." She elbowed James when he started making exaggerated faces at Fred. "She says you'd better kick Ravenclaw's arses, or she'll never let you hear the end of it."

Fred laughed, his spirits lifting. "You heard her, mate. We win, or we face Nimah's wrath. I'd rather deal with Ravenclaw than that."

James snorted, punching Fred lightly on the shoulder. "Don't need to tell me twice. Let's give her something to cheer about."

With that, Fred stepped onto the pitch, his heart pounding with anticipation as the roar of the crowd swelled around him. The sun shone brightly, casting golden rays across the Quidditch field, but his focus was elsewhere—on the echo of Nimah's words that played over and over in his mind like a melody that wouldn't fade.

Her promise was simple, yet it carried a weight that grounded him: "One day, I'll be able to be in the stands and cheering you on." It wasn't just a fleeting remark—it was a vow, one that hinted at her resilience and determination to heal, no matter how long it took.

Fred clenched his broomstick tighter, allowing her words to fuel his resolve. He didn't need her to be in the stands right now, cheering him on with the other Gryffindors. The knowledge that she believed in him, even from afar, was enough. It gave him purpose. Every play he made, every risk he took on the pitch wasn't just for himself; it was for her too—for the dream they had forged together and the bond they shared.

As the whistle blew and the match began, Fred shot into the air with the confidence of someone who knew he was exactly where he was meant to be. He was aware of every beat of his heart, every push of the broom beneath him. He wasn't just a player in the game—he was carrying their shared vision, their unspoken promise, forward with every move.

Even as the stands erupted with the familiar roar of excitement, chants of his name weaving through the vibrant chaos, Fred found his focus elsewhere. The sea of crimson and gold cheering him on was electrifying, but the sound that resonated most wasn't there. It was the quiet encouragement of someone absent—a steady, unspoken cheer that echoed louder in his heart than all the voices around him.

Fred knew that Nimah wasn't in the stands today. She wasn't ready yet, and that was okay. Healing wasn't a race; it was a journey, one he was willing to wait for. Because he believed—no, he knew—that one day, she'd be there. He could almost picture her, standing tall and proud, her cheers blending seamlessly with the crowd, not as a reminder of pain, but as a testament to how far they'd both come.

But until that day, he would play for the both of them. Every manoeuvre, every goal, and every moment of victory was another step forward, not just in the game but in the promise they had made together. The dream was never just his, nor hers—it was theirs, intertwined in a way that made each match feel more meaningful than just a competition.

Fred's grip tightened on his broom as he soared higher, determination blazing in his eyes. He carried not just the hopes of his team but the weight of something far more personal—a dream that lived in the space between them, a shared promise that had become the very core of his drive.

Someday, when the time was right, she'd be there. And when that moment came, Fred knew it would be worth every step of the journey they'd taken, together and apart. Until then, he vowed to keep playing—not just for the game, not just for the crowd, but for Nimah and the dream they'd built, one match at a time.