A week before the next full moon, Caiti had read through the book of Quidditch trials cover to cover. With each new story, her stomach twisted at the thought of how difficult it would be to get a place for Marlowe on any team, let alone one who had already refused him. The last few cases were fairly recent and there were more precedents for denying people positions than for awarding them. The book's author, however, had explored the places where laws had been twisted and she thought, with enough information, she could make a strong argument. She was not a Ravenclaw for nothing. She knew how to do her research.

This time, when she went to the library, it was with specific intentions in mind. Inside the door, she turned left and headed straight for the librarian's desk. Madame Page's skin was so pale and sallow it seemed to Caiti that she had never actually left the shadowy library. She'd always made Caiti feel a little nervous, but she also knew that if anyone could find the book she was looking for, it was Madame Page.

"Excuse me," she whispered. The old woman looked up from the desk. "I was wondering," Caiti continued, careful to keep her voice low, "If you could help me find a book."

Madame Page continued to stare at her in perfect silence. She had mastered the art of breathing, walking, and moving about her desk without a single sound.

"I'm interested in the laws recently put into place to protect werewolves in the workplace, and also any laws regarding hiring in professional quidditch."

The librarian regarded her for another few seconds and then she picked up her wand and headed out from around the desk and towards the stacks. Caiti followed her, feeling self-conscious about the sound of her shoes and the way her clothes rustled against each other when she walked.

She felt much better, however, when they stopped near the section Caiti had found the first book. Madame Page raised her wand and flicked it. Two volumes fluttered down from the top row. They looked just alike except that one seemed much newer than the other, and they came from a collection of several dozen other identical books. Madame Page handed Caiti the books, with slate blue covers and gold embossed roman numerals on the spine. The first read XVI and the second XXIV.

Caiti set one down as quietly as possible on the table nearest them and opened to the title page as nothing but the number was written on the outside. The older looking book read Magical Laws and Doctrines of the United Kingdom: Volume XVI – Sport and Recreation and the second, a similar title except for the specific subject matter, Volume XXIV – Part Human Rights and Restrictions.

Caiti did not like the wording on the second title, but she knew it would hold what she was looking for. "Thank you," she whispered. Madame Page nodded and made her way back to her desk. Caiti waited until she was gone before she sat down to read.

---

Sean, Evelyn, and Marlowe sat at dinner on Wednesday night, just one day before the full moon, when Caiti suddenly arrived. Marlowe sat up very straight. Feverish and exhausted as he had come to expect as the days neared his transformation, this was the most alert he had felt the whole day. He even smoothed his hand through his sloppy hair in a lame attempt to make himself look presentable.

But Caiti wasn't looking at him.

"Ev," she said. "I need your help with something."

"Oh," she said. "Alright. Now?"

Caiti hesitated, glancing at Sean. "If you don't mind," she said.

"No, of course." Evelyn stood up. She glanced at Marlowe.

He tried desperately to think of something good to say to her while he had the chance, but his mind had gone blank. Then he and Caiti made eye contact for the shortest second and his heart stopped. Was she going to say something? Even hello would have been like Christmas morning at this point. Caiti looked away and then back up at him, this time with the smallest smile on her lips, barely enough to even register, but still, he was so surprised, he didn't have time to even smile back before the girls walked away.

He leaned forward on the table to peer around the heads of the people nearest them. They had sat down side by side a short ways down, far enough that he could not hear any of what they were saying. Caiti had taken out several long rolls of parchment and she and Evelyn had put their heads together to discuss something.

"What's that about?" asked Marlowe.

"Probably just homework," said Sean, shrugging. He had been significantly less interested in monitoring Caiti's odd behavior lately, because she had seemed in much better spirits the last week or so and it had been quite a relief to Sean who had not wanted to write home to his parents about what had happened.

Marlowe had not lost interest though. If anything, it had piqued his interest even more. She was up to something. She was always so busy, coming back late from the library.

"I don't think so," said Marlowe.

"You're just overthinking it," said Sean. "Exams are coming up."

"She doesn't have O.W.L.'s or N.E.W.T.'s though."

"Still exams," said Sean. He helped himself to another serving of pot pie. "You've gotta eat something," Sean added, because Marlowe's plate was untouched.

"Can't," he said. "I feel like crap."

"You're gonna make yourself feel worse," said Sean.

But Marlowe just shook his head, pushed his plate away, folded his arms on the table, put his forehead down, and mumbled "I literally couldn't feel worse."

---

Around five o'clock the next evening, there was a knock on Marlowe's door. "Come in," he said.

It was Caiti who came around the door. She stood very still and very quiet, eyes on the ground. A goblet, steam curling around the edges, was clutched in her hands. Marlowe sat on the edge of his bed, staring at her in disbelief. He had given next to no thought to who would be making the potion for him this time around, but now he saw her standing there with it, he was sure that, deep down, he had never thought it would be Caiti again. His throat burned uncomfortably. He was sure his face was red.

It was impossible not to think of the last time she had come to his room this way.

"Can you just take it?" Caiti asked finally. Her voice was tight. Marlowe wondered how long he had been sitting there looking at her. He stood quickly, took the glass and set it down on Sean's trunk, which was nearest where she stood. Then, before she could go, he pulled her into a tight hug, one hand on the back of her head. Caiti's hands didn't quite make it around him, but she at least placed them partway up his sides. Her breathing was slow and steady, but he could feel her heart beating fast against his chest.

When he let go, Caiti turned to go at once. "Caiti," he said when her hand was on the doorknob. She paused, but did not look at him. "Thank you."

If anything, she hovered another moment and then left quickly, leaving him confused and conflicted.

He downed the potion at once, thinking that, at the very least, he was guaranteed a solid twelve plus hours to dwell on this brief exchange uninterrupted and to decide what to do next. He would get her to talk to him. He had to.

---

The following afternoon, Marlowe positioned himself outside the potions classroom. His body ached and shooting pains kept going up his shins when he walked. He had barely gotten himself out of bed the whole day. But if one thing could, it was Caiti. And he had decided last night, in his ample thinking time, that this conversation could not wait. He was just going to do it. So he arrived in the dungeons and waited outside the door fifteen minutes before her class got out, just in case, and tried his best to ignore the way his hands shook and his chest felt tight.

But despite all this, he knew it was only the aftermath of the night that was bothering him. He felt oddly calm about seeing Caiti. Ready, even, to have the conversation they had never had in the first place.

When the door finally opened, Marlowe shoved his hands into his pockets and bowed his head, lifting just his eyes to watch for her. She was one of the last to emerge, walking side by side with that Gryffindor kid that did commentary at the Quidditch matches. Marlowe couldn't remember his name. She was laughing at something he was saying, but then she spotted Marlowe and her smile faded too quickly.

"I'll see you later," she said to him and then she took a few steps towards Marlowe.

Her hair was down that day, all the way down. He rarely saw her that way. It was parted heavily to one side so that it draped over her face. She tucked it behind her ear, but untucked it again almost immediately.

"Wanna go for a walk?" Marlowe asked.

Caiti blinked. "Alright," she said.

They walked in silence up from the dungeons and through the entrance hall. Marlowe turned to go outside. It was beautiful out. He'd had his window open all day to enjoy it. It was the first really warm day they had had that spring.

Caiti kept her hands crossed tightly over her stomach and did not look at him.

They walked all the way down to the lake and he stopped at a grassy spot in the sun and said, "Let's sit," because he didn't think he could take being on his feet much longer. He sat first, and then she joined him a moment later, cross-legged. She began picking at the grass.

Marlowe shrugged off his robes. It was actually hot out. He stared out at the sparkling water; it seemed a little less black than usual. There was just enough of a breeze to rustle the trees and to tickle the bare skin on his arms.

"I don't know where to start," he said finally.

Caiti sniffed and he looked over at her. She was crying already, just a little bit.

"Crap, I'm sorry," she murmured, turning her face away from him as she hurried to wipe her tears away. She put her head back, looking up to the sun and took a long, slow breath. He thought she would just go quiet again, but on her exhale she said, "I've just been thinking about you a lot lately." She lowered her head again and squinted a little. "Like, a lot, a lot," she added.

Marlowe hesitated. He did not know what to say. "Me too," he said finally. "I mean- like... about you. Not about me."

She kind of smiled and he was so giddy over it that he actually grinned, though it faded fast.

"How are you?" asked Caiti. This surprised him.

"Fine," he said at once.

"No, I mean, how are you?" she asked again. "How was last night? How was... I don't know... just... how are you?"

"Oh," he said. He had not really talked about the full moon to anyone. He had admitted to Sean that it was not was not great, which was a massive understatement, but he had otherwise kept very silent about the whole matter. It was not fun to talk about or to think about or to go through. Saying any of it aloud made him feel dirty and tainted. He wrapped his arms around his knees and sat forward. "I don't know," he said. "I feel pretty crappy today. I'm-" he paused, picking at the skin on the side of his thumb. "I'm not good. But I'm okay."

Caiti just nodded. It was another minute before she asked, "My potion works, right?"

Marlowe nodded. "Tastes better than the one they gave me at St. Mungo's," he said quietly. She glanced at him and he added, "Better is relative, so don't get a big head."

She actually laughed a little bit and Marlowe had to press his lips tight together to keep from smiling too much.

"Thanks," he said. "I mean I said it last night, but... really. If I didn't-" He stopped. He didn't really want to think about what would happen without the potion. "Just thanks," he said again.

"You're welcome," said Caiti softly. She was picking at the grass again, pulling long strands out by the roots. She twisted them around her fingers and threw them away.

"And also," he said. He stopped and cleared his throat. He didn't want to bring this up, but he knew he had to address it. "I'm really sorry."

Caiti swallowed hard. There was a beat and then she said, "I know." The breeze picked up and blew her hair into her face. She lifted her hand to unstick it from between her eyelashes and he saw she was crying again, just enough to notice.

"I don't really know what to- I don't-" he stopped and sighed, face into his hands. "I don't want to defend myself," he said, voice muffled slightly. He lifted his face again, sliding his hands down his cheeks so they pulled his skin taut. "If I'm being honest, I probably meant some of it. Not all of it. But definitely some of it. Like I wasn't lying when I said I blamed you for it. And I know that's not true and it's not fair, but it's hard not to feel that way sometimes." Marlowe grabbed a fistful of grass and ripped it out. "You were the only other one who was there. It just- I don't know," he sighed. "It's not your fault."

Caiti said nothing. He couldn't look at her. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Being honest with you sucks." He put his forehead down on his knees again before he spoke. 

"The other thing I meant was that I don't like when you pretend it didn't happen. Like I want you to treat me normally, but I also - I don't know how to explain it. I guess I don't want to feel like you're holding something back or like... tip-toeing around something or whatever. It's hard enough for me to know it every day, but it's a lot harder to accept it if you're right there all the time ignoring it until we can't ignore it anymore. And then you spring it on me all the sudden, like, hey I know what happened. I know what you are. And I can't stop thinking about what you think of me then, if you're scared of me, or if you don't want-" 

He stopped. He had not realized how much he was going to say. "I guess I just mean that I need you to accept it and treat it like it's normal instead of trying to keep what used to be normal. I'm never going to be like that anymore. I'm just different. And- and if you don't want to... " He decided against forcing himself to finish that sentence.

He lifted his head again and looked out at the water. The sun seemed extra bright after the little safe space he'd had in his knees. It seemed impossible he should have been able to talk this way in broad daylight. This was a conversation for the dark, where he could hide.

"But no matter what, I shouldn't have talked to you that way. I shouldn't have yelled. And I shouldn't have- I mean, I needed something different. But I didn't tell you that. And I shouldn't have expected you to know. And I shouldn't have pretended like you didn't need things from me, too."

Caiti sniffed again. He saw her make a surreptitious swipe at the outer corner of her eye.

"You wanna know what I definitely didn't mean?" he asked. He could feel his cheeks heating up already. She didn't answer, so he went on. "I do need you," he said. He finally looked at her.

Caiti let out a single, small sob followed by a noise of frustration. "God, I'm just-" She rolled her eyes upwards and shook her hands out. She balled them up into fists and screwed up her mouth, then she dropped her hands and relaxed everything all at once. Tears continued to stream out of the corners of her eyes. "You really hurt me, but I don't want to cry about you anymore. It's exhausting." Her voice came out strong, if a little shaky.

"Marlowe," she continued, "I appreciate your honesty. I forgive you. And I love you. And I care about you. But-" She finally looked at him for longer than a glance and he forced himself to maintain eye contact. Her eyes were fiery, their usual softness hardened. It was unusual to see her this way. "I don't think I can trust you," she said. "Yet." He physically felt his face crumple. "It's just gonna take some time," she added. He nodded and then he had to look away.

Her words stung, but he didn't blame her. He had said some things that probably cut deep too.

It was almost ten minutes before either of them spoke again. "Caiti?" he said finally.

She barely glanced at him.

He took a breath and held it in a few seconds before anything came out. "I don't regret it," he said, "pushing you out of the way."

Caiti's eyes went a little glassy, but she didn't start crying again. Instead, she scooted over, closing most of the foot and half that had been between them all this time, and she took his hand. She didn't intertwine their fingers and she didn't squeeze and she didn't lean into him, but it was enough.

---

Standing in the middle of the dropping strewn stone floor of the owlery, Evelyn called down one of the school barn owls who neatly extended a foot so she could attach the letter. Caiti paced back and forth by the largest open air window with one hand on her mouth and the other across her lower belly. Her eyes were wide.

"We shouldn't be doing this," she said. "I should have told him. What if he- what if he blows up at me again for trying to help? Oh my god- no. Give that to me."

She stuck out her hand, but Evelyn had already tied the letter to the owl's foot. She headed for a different window than the one Caiti stood by and released the owl outside without a word.

"No," said Caiti. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Call him back. Right now." She stopped walking with a stomp and stared at Evelyn with urgency. Evelyn waved down a second owl. "No," said Caiti again. "Evelyn don't you dare. I'm not even kidding."

Caiti made to try to snag the second letter away, but her hand flew past the owl who got spooked and snapped at her with his beak, making a deep cut on her thumb. It fluttered up and over a few feet before dutifully sticking it's leg back out to let Evelyn resume. She made sure to attach this one quickly, gave the owl a little stroke with the back of her fingers, and sent it out the window.

Caiti looked downright distressed.

"It's not a mistake, Caiti," said Evelyn, coming to her friend and putting her hands on either shoulder. "You've done all this research, and if nothing comes of it, fine. But you know it's illegal, and you know how to prove it, so you can't just let it happen." She picked up Caiti's hand and pointed her wand at the cut to heal it. She knew almost nothing about healing, but it was a simple enough spell.

"Thanks," Caiti mumbled. Evelyn called down another owl and took out the third letter. There were a dozen in all, each addressed to the manager of a different quidditch team in the British and Irish league. Evelyn had helped Caiti organize all her research into a coherent and thoughtful argument against behavior like that of the Ballycastle Bats. Evelyn had a way with words that was empathetic but struck deep where it needed too. She was not one to skirt truths, no matter how difficult, but she knew how to keep from sounding too accusatory. The letters were good. She was certain of it. And in any luck, at least one team would respond.

"Oh my god," said Caiti again as Evelyn sent the third owl on its way. She covered her eyes with her hands and sunk down to a squat. "I can't watch."

Evelyn worked in silence until all the letters were gone, and then she put a hand on Caiti's back and helped her stand. They walked out side by side and at the very bottom of the steep spiral staircase, Caiti squeezed her hands into fists, released them again, and said, "Thank you."

Evelyn just gave her a small smile.

---

It was a Thursday afternoon and Evelyn had an unfinished essay she should have been working on. Instead, she was lying on her back on Sean's bed. They had not pulled the hangings closed because the breeze coming in the open window was so wonderful. It was that perfect kind of sleepy spring day where it seemed impossible to do anything but just enjoy the good weather. Sean had his eyes shut, but she knew he wasn't sleeping.

"Sean?" she asked. He turned his head and opened his eyes. "We have a month and a half of school left," she began.

He turned his head back again to stare up at the canopy of his four poster with her. "That's insane."

"I know," she said. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

He sighed through his nose. "Me neither," he said.

Evelyn rolled over onto her side, folded her hands, and tucked them under her head.

"Are you gonna go back home?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said. "At first I guess."

He rolled over too, propped up on his elbow, and reached out with his other arm to run his fingers through her hair, from her scalp all the way to the ends. He let his fingers come to rest lightly on her waist.

"It's just weird to think about not being here," she said. "I've never- I don't know this world. Outside Hogwarts."

"Yeah," said Sean. "Well... at least you know me."

She smiled a little. "Yeah, that's true."

"I don't feel old enough to be thinking about careers," said Sean, matter-of-factly.

"Not even close," said Evelyn. Her smile grew.

Sean laughed a little, his eyes bright but focused somewhere past her shoulder. "Ev, you're not even eighteen yet. I still feel about fifteen. And we're- we're meant to be starting our lives. Sent out on our own already."

"I know," she laughed. "It seems a little reckless to send all these kids out into the world, like, we educated and cared for you for seven years, now you're ready to live on your own and feed yourself and pay the bills, and get a job."

"We don't even do our own laundry," said Sean.

She grinned. "Okay. Here's what I think. We go home for like... a month or two. Get a crash course in how to be an adult, and then..."

"And then we figure out the rest together," said Sean. He looked at her again.

She smiled too much. "Yeah," she said. She looked down.

Sean shifted closer to her, worked his arm under her shoulders, and kissed her on the top of the head. Evelyn snuggled up into the crook of his arm, head on his chest and said, "Seventh year-itis is a real thing."

Sean laughed. She liked how it felt when his chest shook under her ear. "We'll try and do some work after dinner," he said.