"Theo!" Caiti called. He stopped just by the door where he and Clara, with her white blonde hair pulled back in a low, messy ponytail, were just about to leave for Hogsmeade. Caiti thought she seemed nervous, though she was hiding it well. She wore a blue puffy vest over her magenta turtleneck and jeans. Her wand stuck out of her back pocket and her wallet, emblazoned with the Applebee Arrows symbol, hung from her wrist.

"Sorry-" She thrust her hand out to him, palm up, holding three galleons. "Could you do me a huge favor?"

He glanced at her open hand but did not take the money. "I can do you a favor without you paying me," he said, frowning.

"Don't be stupid. I want you to pick something up for me." She grabbed his hand and put the galleons in it. "Some of that crystallized pineapple from Honeydukes," she said. Then she added, "It's Marlowe's favorite."

"Oh, yeah," he looked at the money in his hand before he closed his fist around it. "Yeah, no problem."

"Thanks," said Caiti, all business. Then she glanced at Clara and back at him and said, "Have fun."

Theo nodded, half-smiled at her, and they turned to go.

Caiti waited till he had gone, and then she headed out the door herself, down to the potions classroom.

---

When Theo returned late that afternoon, Caiti was sitting by the fireplace, enjoying the fact that almost no one was there. She had just finished playing a round of Gobstones with Elliot, who was too young for Hogsmeade, but then he and his friends had gone off to the library and she'd been left almost alone. When he and Clara entered, she watched the two of them say their "I had a nice time's" and Theo gave her an awkward hug. "Uhm... see you at practice," he said, holding up a hand as she headed upstairs. She turned her head and smiled at him on her way.

Theo stood there a minute watching her go. He ran a hand through his hair and then he nodded smiling to himself.

He spotted Caiti in one of the comfy armchairs and headed over to her. "Hey," he said, plopping down in another chair.

"How was it?" Caiti asked.

"Good. Yeah. It was really good. She's cool."

Caiti smiled and tucked her knees up to her chest. "Good," she said. "I'm glad."

"Oh-" Theo fished inside a Hogsmeade bag for a minute before pulling out the crystallized pineapple. He clapped it into his opposite hand once and then held it out to her. "This is the right stuff?"

"Perfect," said Caiti. "Thanks." She smiled a little as she took it, but it didn't last long.

"D'you want me to leave you alone?" he asked.

Caiti hesitated before she nodded. The day had not been a particularly good one.

"Kay," said Theo. He stood again. "Oh, almost forgot," he added, searching inside the shopping bag again. This time, he pulled out a chocolate frog. "I got this for you, too."

Caiti rolled her lips together and blinked hard. The corners of her mouth quivered, not sure if they wanted to smile or turn down and cry. She reached out for the box. "Thank you."

She looked down until he left and then she tipped her head to rest on her hand and let herself cry for the first time since Monday. She had never thought of herself as a Valentine's Day girl. It was, in her opinion, a bit of a stupid holiday. But she had watched Sean and Evelyn leave that morning, Evelyn all dolled up, and then Theo and Clara going out for the first time, and all these others passing cards and candies to each other, and it hit her that, more than anything, she just missed Marlowe. She hated what had happened to him, hated that he would have to deal with it for the rest of his life, but what bothered her more than anything was simply his absence. He was her best friend, and without him, she felt like she was just adding herself into other groups she didn't belong to. Her go-to person, her home person, was not here.

Caiti cried ceaselessly for a few minutes, not sobbing, really, just lots of quiet tears. Once she had calmed herself enough that she could see straight, she pulled out a piece of parchment and one of her favorite self-inking quills, and wrote a very short letter, only slightly longer than the one Marlowe had sent her.

Marlowe,

I'm fine. I miss you. I really, really miss you.

Love,

Caiti

She wiped underneath her eyes with the back of her hand, and began collecting her things. If she made it up to the owlery in the next half an hour, he would get her note and the candies before the end of the night.

---

"Eat fast," said Mrs. Finnegan as soon as she had set the lunch tray she had just brought up from the cafeteria on his lap. Marlowe was already sick of the food choices at St. Mungo's which were not horrible, but were not plentiful either.

His mother started pouring little packets of dressing over the Asian salad she was eating for the fourth time that week. She was staying in a nearby value hotel, because she could not apparate to and from home and work the way his dad did, and the one floo-powder induced trip she had taken the night of the attack had been, to use her words, "almost as bad as finding out that Marlowe was in the hospital at all." This meant that she was spending all her time at Marlowe's bedside, desperately trying to entertain him and keep his spirits up, eating the same select options he was stuck with for the month.

"Why?" he asked, crushing up a packet of crackers to dump into his soup.

"We're going out," she said. Marlowe sat up. He had barely left his room in over a week and it was driving him mad. He had never felt so sedentary.

"We're allowed to?" he asked. "I mean- I'm allowed to?"

"I asked for permission," she said. "And they agreed it might do you good not to be cooped up the whole time."

"Where are we going?" he asked. He honestly didn't care. He thought going to the drug store to pick up a new toothbrush would have been exhilarating after so many days stuck in this nearly empty white room. "Why do we have to hurry?"

"It's a surprise," she said.

Marlowe began to shovel down his soup.

As soon as he scraped the bowl clean, he jumped up from his little table and headed for the bathroom to take care of the mess on his head. He had sort of let himself go for the week, with no Caiti there to impress and too many other things occupying his brain. His mother did not care how he looked.

He brushed his teeth and attempted to comb some life back into his bed-flattened hair. It was not so much curly today as it was simply not straight.But there was not much he could do, and anyway, he did not expect to see anyone he knew.

Back out in the bedroom, he crossed to the nightstand to pick up his wand. He tucked it into the back pockets of his jeans, glancing down at the box of pineapple and the short note from Caiti. The first time he had read it, he had smiled. She missed him. The second time, he had felt anxious; 'fine' was never the truth. Still, he liked having something there of hers, something she had touched, something she had intended only for him.

He was still trying to come up with something good to say back to her. It was so much easier to write Sean, who he had been pestering two or three times a day with lengthy analyses of where he thought the team should be. Marlowe was always prepared to talk quidditch.

He was still thinking about Caiti's letter ten minutes later as they headed out of the building. "Mum?" he said. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," she said. She had already dug her phone out of her purse and was holding down the power button to shut it down. The longer she spent at St. Mungo's, the more often her phone had been going haywire from the surplus of magic around her. She was no longer receiving any messages or emails until she was well outside the building and had restarted the phone.

While Marlowe tried to think how to frame his question, the phone turned back on and began buzzing and dinging madly with all the notifications she had missed.

"How come," Marlowe began finally. He shoved his hands into his pockets. It was at least bearable outside, but it was still very cold in the February wind. "How come it's always been so easy to talk to Caiti ever since I met her and now I don't know what to say to her?"

His mother looked up from the emails she was scrolling through while she walked. "Sweetheart, you as good as proposed."

Marlowe was taken aback by this. "No I- what?"

She laughed. "I'm kidding. I just mean, you did something for her that was huge, and that most new relationships don't get tested with. And so it's become serious. You did something that moved you beyond that honeymoon phase, 'this is all fun' feeling at the beginning of a relationship. That changes things."

"How come it doesn't feel good?" he asked, frowning. He felt uncomfortable asking his mom these sorts of things. They had never talked about girls before. But he did not know who else to ask.

"A strong relationship isn't just being happy and having fun all the time. There are things that don't feel good, too. Sacrifices and disagreements and things that are just hard to work out how to navigate. You'll be fine, Marlowe. If I had just saved your father's life, I don't think I'd know what to say to him either, and we've been married almost twenty five years."

Marlowe didn't say anything else for a long time. They continued to walk, Marlowe looking to her for cues on which way to turn; he still had no idea where they were going. They stopped on a street corner to wait for the traffic to pass. "How come you know so much about this stuff?"

"I was popular with the boys at your age," she said immediately. She grinned at him.

Marlowe made a brave attempt at his old cheeky smile when he asked, "Then how'd you end up with dad?"

She laughed first, but then her face softened into something more thoughtful. "I realized," she said slowly, "that we were both willing to give up the ease of living the same lifestyle for each other. We have two... two totally different worlds, you know? And I still wanted to marry him, and he still wanted to marry me." She gave Marlowe a pointed look as they began walking again. "It got serious. And it changed things."

Marlowe had never thought much into the future before apart from playing quidditch. He had not spent time daydreaming about his future wife and family. Still, he had a sudden warm, but unspecific feeling deep inside, something just out of reach, like a tickle on your back that you can't locate. He didn't know much about his future, especially not after recent events. The one thing he knew was that he wanted Caiti around.

"Here we are," she said suddenly. Marlowe almost kept walking.

He stopped abruptly and looked up at the neon marquee which read "Lucy's Solar Theatre" in great pink letters. Beneath that was a white board with three slats cutting it in long sections, inside which black lettered tiles had been slid inside to form the words of the pictures currently playing.

"There's a new Marvel movie out," said his mum, watching him with her arms crossed over her waist. "I know you liked some of those."

Marlowe nodded once, smiling at the ground. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and hugged her, something he had not done often enough. "Thanks Mum," he said. It took a few seconds before she put her arms around him too, but when she did, she gave him a tight squeeze and kept her arm around him as they walked inside to buy tickets.

---

The morning of the Quidditch match against Slytherin, Sean got one last letter from Marlowe. The envelope, this time, was much thinner than the previous dozen he had received, all of which had been lengthy and in depth. He slit the top of the envelope open and shook out the single bit of paper inside.

YOU BETTER FREAKING WIN I SWEAR DON'T YOU DARE LOSE TO THOSE FREAKING SNAKES

Sean laughed and passed the letter to Evelyn who was frowning at him.

"Really excellent grammar," she said, raising her eyebrow. She passed the letter back to Sean. "I wonder how he really feels."

"Yeah," Sean said, still grinning. "It's almost like he wants us to win or something."

---

The match was set for one o'clock that afternoon and though it was still bitterly cold, the sun had poked through the gray February sky for the first time in weeks. Sean would have felt downright cheerful if he had not just realized that this would be the first match he ever played without Marlowe there. He had gotten on the team the year after Marlowe had. While other members of the team had come and gone, Marlowe was the one consistent thing about Quidditch.

Sean passed around Marlowe's note while they all waited in the locker room to go out onto the pitch, sure that he would not otherwise be able to impress the true seriousness of the call. No one was surprised by the intensity of Marlowe's desire that they win, but he was pleased to see that they all took it a little more seriously than they might have done. No one wanted to disappoint him in the present circumstances.

At five till, the captains were called out to the pitch to shake hands before the rest of the team joined them. No one moved, Sean included. Everyone looked at him and he snapped out of his head. "What?"

Clara shoved him off the bench where he sat. "That's you! Go!"

"Oh," he said suddenly. "Oh, yeah." Feeling uncomfortable - he had never done this before - he hurried outside, hoping the other captain was not already waiting for him. He met the Slytherin captain, Zachary Mullins, at center field. Mullins was a big, burly sort of guy with dark bags under his eyes at all times. He nearly crushed Sean's hand when they shook, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles actually cracked.

It ached as he walked back to meet the rest of the team. He shook it out and flexed it a few times, gripping his fingers in and out of a fist. Theo stood next to him as they mounted their brooms. "You all right?" he muttered.

"Yeah," Sean said, shaking his head. "Fine."

The referee released the snitch, and Theo's interest in Sean's dilemma was gone, eyes flicking around in the direction it had flown, hoping for a head start on the Slytherin seeker once they were in the air.

"Players, mount your brooms," called the ref. They all got into position, and then the whistle was blown, and Sean kicked off from the ground, zooming over to the goalposts.

The quaffle was released and the game began. Slytherin immediately took possession, which gave Sean no time to worry about the fact that his right hand was still pulsing unpleasantly. He released his grip on the broom and tried to shake it out again while he watched the oncoming chasers preparing to make the first goal of the match. 

"Get yourself together," he mumbled to himself. He saw the center chaser's arm prepare to throw left and he shot off towards the ring, reaching out his hand for the quaffle. It whizzed straight at him, but when it hit his hand, instead of gripping and pressing it towards his body to prepare to throw it back to his own team, like he would normally have done, he fumbled and knocked it through the ring. He was so shocked, he just hung there in mid air gaping blankly at the place where it had gone through.

"What was that?" called Elodie as she flew past to scoop up the falling Quaffle.

"I had it!" shouted Sean defensively. All around them, the Slytherin cheers were unbearable. Thirty seconds into the game and then were already ten-nothing. Elodie and the other chasers were already at the Slytherin end of the pitch when Sean finally pulled himself together and leaned to his right to swing back over to his middle hoop. He had never done something like that before. It had literally been in his hand.

Down at the other end of the pitch, he watched Elodie pass to Eddie Kirkland who tried to feint and throw it through the opposite goal it looked like he was aiming for. Unfortunately, their keeper, a girl in Caiti's year called Marilyn, seemed to have expected this and she saved it. The Ravenclaw crowd let out a great groan in unison, but it was drowned out by the renewed cheers of the Slytherins. Sean tried not to picture Marlowe's face if he saw the direction the match was headed, if this rocky start was any indication.

For the second time, the Slytherin chasers sped towards him, and Sean steeled himself to block their goal. The quaffle soared towards the hoops and he made to grab it, but again, he found he was not able to put enough pressure on the ball to grab. He let go with his left hand in a very stupid attempt to save it at the last second, but he had not gripped the broom hard enough with his knees and the broom lurched forward under his imbalance.

"Twenty-zero to Slytherin!" called out the announcer. The silver and green supporters in the crowd roared with delight.

The fourth time the Slytherins came flying towards his goals, he was so determined to stop them scoring again that he made to simply smack the ball away without even trying to aim at any of his teammates. Pain and instant regret reverberated from his fingers all the ways up his arm the moment he did so. He managed to keep the ball out of the hoop, but he was in so much shock at the pain in his hand that he barely noticed that he had sent the quaffle straight back at the Slytherin player who had thrown it in in the first place. When he made a second attempt at the goal, Sean did not even try to stop it. He stared at his hand in disbelief.

"Oh my god," he said out loud, looking up just as they all reached the other end of the pitch. "He broke my hand."

Sean looked up at Theo, praying that he had seen the snitch, but both he and the other seeker were circling high above the game, peering around for a glint of gold that they had not yet spotted.

He was counting on the Ravenclaw chasers to make some of their usual spectacular goals, but although they had managed several strong plays, they had somehow not yet scored.

A while later, as goal number seven soared towards him, Sean thought he'd try and used his left hand instead, but as soon as he tried to grip the broom with his injured right hand, he realized he had not thought the situation through thoroughly. Another sharp pain wracked through him and distracted him from his efforts.

"Call timeout!" yelled Marcie Pritchard as she hurried away with the quaffle tucked under her arm.

Sean quickly raised his hand and signaled to the ref, wondering why on earth he had not done this sooner.

The team flew down and huddled together. Sean did not waste any time before he sought Clara and Charlie's faces. "You two," he said. "Get the bludgers and smack the crap out of Mullins. I'm not kidding."

Clara laughed, looking like she was concerned for his sanity. "Why just Mullins?"

"Because he broke my freaking hand, that's why," said Sean, trying hard to find the humor in his situation. The more he thought about it, the more his hand really hurt.

The team was in an uproar. "You have to go to the hospital wing!" shouted Charlie.

"He did that on purpose! You have to tell someone!" said Elodie.

"QUIET!" Sean yelled over all of them. "Listen, we're running out of time." He glanced at the ref, hoping she didn't blow the whistle before he finished. "We are not forfeiting to Slytherin. I'll deal with this after the match. Theo," he turned to look at him, "Get the snitch. Like... yesterday. Do not let them get up to 150 points before you do. You have to catch it before we can't catch up. And you three," he turned now to the chasers, "You're doing great, just... keep trying to get a goal, give him some extra time. I'm not going to be able to save anything with this hand so... it's up to you guys."

The whistle sounded and they all put their hands in - Sean switching out his right for his left. "Ravenclaw on three?" said Marcie.

Clara shook her head. "Mm-mm. Finnegan."

Sean felt a little pull in his stomach and he nodded. "One... " he said. Everyone else joined in for "Two... Three... FINNEGAN!" And then they jumped on their brooms and flew up to resume play.

Ravenclaw was in possession. Perhaps it only took understanding the dilemma there were in, because, finally, Marcie scored a goal. The Ravenclaws in the stands, who had had absolutely nothing to cheer about so far, were louder than Sean had ever heard them. A chant of Marcie's name broke out and lasted for quite a while, only dying out when Sean let another Slytherin goal through, bringing the Slytherin lead back to seventy points.

Above the match, Theo zig zagged back and forth, a picture of perfect focus, but neither seeker seemed to have spotted the snitch yet. Sean had to hope that if the Slytherin seeker caught sight of it first, Theo's speed would be enough to beat him to it.

Back out in the main area of play, Sean was relieved to see Charlie whacking bludgers at a wider selection of Slytherin players, because Clara had taken his words literally and was aiming - with a bright and mischievous smile on her face - exclusively at Mullins, something which, if not for Charlie's judiciousness, might have gotten them a penalty: the last thing they needed.

Still, he appreciated her enthusiasm.

When the score was up one hundred and thirty to twenty, and Sean had just begun to feel hopeless - as well as a little lightheaded (the pain in his hand was getting significantly worse thanks to another attempted and failed save) - Theo shot straight in front of him, finally after something. The other seeker saw too late and tried to zoom after him to catch up, but Theo had a solid lead on him. Sean completely ignored the oncoming quaffle as he watched Theo's progress, letting one last goal slip in. Theo leaned forward on his broom now, arm outstretched, and then he pulled up, slowed, and held his fist up, the snitch closed inside it.

Sean threw his head back in relief as the announcer called out "That's the snitch! Ravenclaw wins 170 to 140! Don't think anyone saw that coming."

Sean flew to ground instantly, not joining in his team's huddle in midair. He clambered off his broom and started booking it up to the castle. Evelyn had evidently been the first one out of the stands because he had not made it far before he heard her call his name. "Sean!" she said. "Sean! Where are you going?"

"Hospital wing," he said firmly, and he turned and began to walk again. She kept running until she had caught up, jogging into step beside him.

"What happened?" she asked. "You never miss-"

"Broke my hand," he said, cutting her off. He had been concerned with getting his team to rally and trying not to further injure his hand during the match, but now it was over, he did not much want to talk about what had to be the most humiliating quidditch experience of his life. It did not help that he was school champion. No one would let him live this down. He had not saved a single goal.

"What? How?" asked Evelyn, looking around him at the hand he was holding gingerly in his left arm.

Sean pursed his lips and his eyes flashed before he answered. "Believe it or not," he said shortly, "it happened shaking hands with Zachary Mullins."

"It did not," said Evelyn.

"It did too," he said. They pushed through the oak front doors and he started up the marble staircase.

"Well..." said Evelyn, clearly trying hard to make light of the situation, "I mean... you did win."

"They won," said Sean. "Not me."

"You don't have to tell Marlowe the details," she said. "And anyway, you could get their captain in serious trouble for that. No one breaks someone's hand by shaking it. That was on purpose.

"Oh Marlowe'll find out," said Sean. "And I am not giving freaking Mullins the satisfaction of knowing I told on him. It's fine."

They walked on in silence and he saw Evelyn start to speak a few times and think better of it. Finally she said. "Sean, no one will blame you... they saw you try and save the goals. You were right there, every time. And if you tell them you were hurt..."

"They'll ask the same thing you did. Why didn't you tell. Ev, if I tell, I have to go to the hospital wing right away, without finishing the game. And that means we forfeit."

"You could've put Elliot in."

"Elliot has never played keeper in his life. Marlowe's had him training as a chaser and a seeker."

"You don't have to snap at me about it," she said quietly. They were nearing the hospital wing now. Sean's stomach turned over.

He stopped outside the door and shut his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean... I'm just-"

"Frustrated," she filled in. "I know."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

She shook her head. "Forget it, come on. Let's go get you taken care of."

The second they walked through the door, Raigan took one look at his Quidditch robes, smiled, and said, "There's always one."

She pointed him to a bed and he sat on the edge so she could take a look.

"I think I broke my hand," he said. Evelyn perched herself on the edge of the bed next to him, looking down at her hands in her lap. He still felt guilty about how he'd talked to her. He hated to leave things unresolved. It was why the situation with Caiti bothered him so much. He could already hardly stand leaving it with Evelyn, and it had been all of two minutes since they had argued.

Raigan poked around his hand for a while, bending and straightening each finger. He winced when she asked him to spread all his fingers apart, and again when she made him close them into a fist.

"Hm," she said, taking a hold of it again. "You kept playing after you initially felt it hurt." It was not a question.

"Uh... yeah," Sean admitted.

"Well, you've certainly broken two of your metacarpals," she said, pointing them out. "But I think you've given yourself some muscle tearing when you tried to keep going. Compensation injuries are usually worse than the first one. It's why you should never ignore things that don't feel right. The bones I can fix. The muscles will take more than just one spell."

She pulled out her wand. "You can... you can fix it though right?" Sean asked. If his hand was permanently damaged because of Mullins...

"Of course. Episkey." There was a loud crack as his bones snapped back together at the break. Sean jumped and opened his mouth in a silent complaint, but then the pain lessened significantly. "You'll just have to stay here about an hour, maybe a little more."

"Hang tight," she said, giving his shoulder a little pat. It occurred to him how much more often he had seen her this year than in all his previous years at Hogwarts combined, thanks to the Triwizard Tournament.

Raigan returned with a bottle in her hand, half full of a bright orange liquid. It looked poisonous. She waved her wand and a glass appeared. She caught it, poured the liquid in until the cup was a quarter full, and handed it to him. Sean picked it up with his good hand and drank it all in one gulp. It tasted terrible, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut and swallow hard to be able to stomach it.

"Not pleasant," said Raigan, "but it does the trick. Lie back for about forty minutes to an hour alright? If you sit up, you'll see why I don't recommend it. Hurts a bit for some people, might not bother you. Either way, don't worry about it. I'll come check on you in a while."

Sean laid down, placing his injured hand carefully across his stomach.

He turned his head to look at Evelyn who had not moved or said a word since she had sat down. "Ev," he said quietly.

"It's fine, Sean. I was just being stupid."

"You weren't," he said. Evelyn didn't say anything. She sat very still except for her hands. She kept picking at her chipping nail polish. Caiti didn't often do her nails, but if she did, she used a color-changing spell on them. She had told Evelyn about this long ago, but Evelyn insisted that actually painting them the muggle way was therapeutic even though Sean knew it drove her crazy when it began to chip off.

"Hey," he said. "Tomorrow... I want to do something just us."

Evelyn looked up at him frowning. Her eyes looked more green than usual.

"It's been a long time since we like... did something, you know? Just you and me."

"It's been since last weekend," she said, her voice flat. They had, after all, just spent a day in Hogsmeade together.

"I know," said Sean. "But I mean really just us. And like... for fun. Where we don't talk about Caiti or Marlowe or any of it."

Evelyn's frown deepened, but now it was thoughtful rather than skeptical. "Or the news," she added.

Sean couldn't help himself. A grin spread across his face, from the tip of his tongue, all the way to the corners of his eyes. "Or school," he said. "Or the tournament."

She nodded, starting to smile a little bit, too. "Okay."

They fell quiet again. After a few minutes, Evelyn came to sit on the bed next to him. She looked down at his hand which he was still babying. It wasn't hurting as badly anymore, but it still pulsed with a dull ache, just annoying enough that he couldn't forget about it.

"You know..." she said quietly. It is kind of funny."

Sean's gaze snapped up to her face and he was infuriated to see she was smiling, her lips pressed tightly together like she was trying to hold back. "It is not," he said with indignation.

"He broke your hand," she paused for effect, "by shaking it."

Sean stared at her awhile. Her face was set, eyes bright and a little fierce. Then she cracked a smile, and all at once the humor hit him. It was simultaneously the least magical and most impossibly stupid Quidditch injury he had ever heard of.

He grinned back at her starting to laugh. Evelyn was quick to join in. "I guess it's a little funny," he agreed. Evelyn shut her eyes and laughed his favorite silent laugh, where no sound came out, but her shoulders shook up and down.

"Okay, maybe not that funny, though," he laughed.

"Shut up," she grinned.

Sean glanced at the door to Raigan's office to make sure it was still closed before he pushed himself to sitting with one hand. He could already feel why he was supposed to lie back. He felt dizzy almost at once. But he didn't need long. He put his good hand on Evelyn's cheek and kissed her lightly. Then he lay back down and just smiled at her.

Evelyn pursed her lips, tipped her head to one side and smiled back, unable to hold his gaze for more than a second at a time.