She was a
champion.
Holly wouldn't (and couldn't, since she was sure it was well-documented) deny that she had cried. Quidditch had been her life for so long, and to have this stretch of a career without a league cup to call her own, it was hard to deal with. Seasons were long and ehxausting, they took away all your time and energy, and to not win the cup meant that you'd just wasted the year. Sure, there were the fans, there was making personal records, and even the international circuit was fun, but Holly had needed this win so badly that she still got shivers when she thought about it. She'd done it, and she'd been the best.
She sighed, taking in the surroundings. Appleby Park had been transformed into a wonderful setting for the event, the spells on the stadium keeping the guests warm and the night sky bright above them. The league cup sat on its platform in the middle of the dance floor, looking like a glorious holy grail that she'd finally wrapped her hands around. Her husband was here somewhere, but she was lost in the sea of people. Teammates, competitors, agents, and the media, it was simply a night for the game she loved, and Holly couldn't remember a moment when she'd been happier with everything in her life.
As she made her way to the bar, she spotted one of her aforementioned teammates standing off and away from the rest of the guests. Holly, not one to ignore a teammate as she'd taken on the role this past season as, well, a mother-hen (but don't tell Theo), she couldn't ignore the nagging feeling in the back of her head.
"You're missing all the fun," she said, taking their elbow. When Holly finally got a good look at their face, she frowned, "What's wrong? It looks like you've seen a ghost."
