"Caiti!" said Evelyn, and Sean whipped around, following Evelyn's gaze to the door of the great hall. Sure enough, Caiti had just walked in. They had somehow missed her the entire previous day and now, finally, here she was. She looked normal: makeup done, hair pulled back into her usual half ponytail and tied up with her favorite blue bow. He let out a breath of relief and slumped over, elbows propped up on the table with his head in his hands.

"Thank god," he whispered.

"Wait- Caiti, where are you going?" asked Evelyn and Sean snapped his head right back up.

She had already passed them, but she paused and turned around. "To sit with Theo," she said. Her voice, he noticed, sounded tired, a little less animated than usual.

"Theo?" he asked, unable to keep the spite out of his voice. He had resented the fact that Caiti, his own sister, had not wanted him to stay with her on Saturday night, but Theo, who she had barely spoken to all year, had not returned from his sojourn to the hospital wing for almost three hours, well past curfew.

"Yes, is that a problem?" she asked.

"I- I mean-" Sean spluttered. "He's... he's your ex-boyfriend, Caiti."

"Yes," she said.

A bit of color rose in Caiti's cheeks, and he felt Evelyn's hand on his forearm. "Sean," she murmured in warning.

"Yes, he is. Well spotted," snapped Caiti.

"Well don't you think... " said Sean, ignoring Evelyn. He could not help himself. He had finally gotten used to the idea that she and Marlowe were a pair, and now she was just going to ditch him after he saved her life and run back to Theo, who Sean had never trusted? "Don't you think," he repeated, "That maybe he's just... taking advantage of you when you're vulnerable?"

Caiti's lips tightened dangerously and she stomped back to Sean. She sat backwards on the bench next to him, looked him dead in the eye and said, "Theo is my friend. And he was there for me when it mattered, alright? So give it a rest, Sean. You might not like him, but I do."

"We tried to be there for you," Sean argued, temper rising.

"Sean," pleaded Evelyn from across the table. "Leave it, okay? What's it matter if she sits with him?"

"Don't, Ev. Caiti, we tried to be there. You-"

"You wouldn't listen!" Caiti said, voice rising. Tears were pricking in her eyes again. Sean's stomach twisted with guilt, but he didn't know how to stop. "You wouldn't listen to me. You wanted to talk and I couldn't. I can't. Don't you see?"

"So what, you're just going to go back to Theo now, since Marlowe's out of the way? Do you always have to have a boyfriend?"

He regretted it instantly. Caiti's jaw dropped open and she just kept blinking at him, the words for how she felt apparently non-existent. Sean rushed to try to explain, though he had no idea how to. "Oh my god... no, Caiti I didn't mean that... I just... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't..."

She stood up. He saw her chin tuck in and her eyes pinch at both corners as she struggled to suppress the oncoming tears. "I would never do that to Marlowe," she spat. Then she was gone. He leaned back, one hand hanging onto the edge of the table, to watch her go. Somewhere in the middle, Caiti dropped her bag on the ground and he saw Theo pull her into a tight hug. He said something to her and - Sean was infuriated to see - Caiti smiled, even laughed a little. She sat up straighter as she pulled away from him, tried to wipe her eyes surreptitiously, and starting spooning scrambled eggs onto her plate.

When he turned back to Evelyn, she just shook her head at him.

"What was I supposed to do?" he asked. He felt worse than he had before, if that was possible.

"Just be nice to her," said Evelyn. Sean felt that he did not deserve her patience. She should stormed away from him too.

He pushed his plate away, mostly untouched.

"Hey, listen," she said, lowering her voice. "She knows you care. She knows you didn't meant that. She does. She just needs what someone else can give her, okay?"

"What can Theo give her that I can't? She's my sister, Evelyn."

"I know that. And you're also Marlowe's best friend. Think about it."

---

"Here you are, sweetheart," said Mrs. Finnegan, handing Marlowe a piece of paper ripped from a pocket notebook and a blue pen, both dug out of the bottom of her purse. Marlowe had long wondered how she managed to fit so much in there without an undetectable extension charm.

"Where's the ink?" he asked.

"The ink? Inside, of course."

"Oh," said Marlowe. "Right. We use..."

"Quills," she smiled. "Like you're in the dark ages."

He smirked and straightened out the paper so he could write. He had decided to write to Sean to ask him to step in as a temporary captain for the quidditch team and he wanted to be sure he had given him all the necessary information: who would play beater in his absence, where to find the training schedule Marlowe had planned out in his school trunk, and an in depth analysis of what plays and tactics to focus on to match Slytherin's style. He had to ask his mum for more paper three times before he had everything down that he wanted to say.

His hand was killing him, but he had one more letter he wanted to write. He laid the pen atop his fresh piece of paper, folded his arms on the edge of the table he sat at in his hospital room, and thought for a very long time. His mom kept looking up from the game she was playing on her phone with a frown on her face. Finally, feeling pressured to get something down, Marlowe picked up the pen. He still did not know what to say.

Caiti, he wrote. How are you?

What did you say to a girl whose life you had just saved? He could not come up with anything that did not sound sappy and out of character. Finally, he just wrote, "Love, Marlowe," at the bottom and folded the paper into fourths.

"I need an owl," said Marlowe.

His mother raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't look at me."

"When's dad coming back?" he asked. He spun the pen around on the table, watching it swerve away from him. It rolled off the edge and she caught it on its way to the ground, smacking it back down on the table.

"Probably not until the morning," she said. "He was going to talk to your headmaster a while after he dropped Elliot off."

"Oh," said Marlowe. He felt uncomfortable whenever any mention of the situation came up, no matter how subtle. It was bad enough that he was stuck in St. Mungo's, a constant reminder of what had happened.

"You wanna play Yahtzee?" she asked. His mother loved games. A few years back, he had tried to teach her how to play Exploding Snap, but he hadn't been able to disagree with her claim that it just wasn't Yahtzee, the go-to game in their house.

"Yeah," he said. He wasn't, truthfully, in the mood. Thinking about Caiti had made him feel a little subdued. But, he felt he had to take care of his mom as much as she had to take care of him. This was not her world. He had to imagine it was almost scarier for her in that way.

"I just want want to mail these first. Isn't there an owl post center upstairs?"

She looked wary. Her experiences venturing outside his room had so far not been pleasant. She had already come back with stories of being sneezed on by a man whose nose had grown as large and purple as an eggplant and a run-in with a woman whose hand had been turned inside out. She had returned on the latter occasion looking very green, and without the food she had promised to bring Marlowe.

"Oh alright," she said. "Give me those."

She took the letters from his hand and pushed off the arms of her chair to stand.

"And don't read them, okay?" said Marlowe.

"I wouldn't dare," she said. She kissed him on the top of the head and said, "Be right back."

---

When Mrs. Finnegan returned, Marlowe was not alone. Two ministry of magic officials, both outfitted in sleek black robes, were seated at the table.

"Ah," said the blonde woman to Marlowe's right. "This must be who we're waiting for."

Marlowe said nothing. After learning what they had come for, he had asked that they wait for his mum to come back, and refused to engage in any of their small talk.

His mother stopped inside the doorway. "We weren't told there would be any visitors today," she said.

"Important business," said the man dismissively. "Now, as we've just told your son, we are representatives from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry. My name is Peter Stein and this is my colleague..."

"Eleanor Lampton," she said, holding her hand out to shake Mrs. Finnegan's. "I understand you're a muggle, so we'll do our best to explain the situation. You might not be so familiar with our laws."

"We won't take much of your time," followed up Mr. Stein. "We've just got a few bits of paperwork to take care of. In essence, your son has been infected with lycanthropy, a blood-borne illness which can only be transferred from person to person by the bite of one already infected. This, I'm sure, you are aware of."

Eleanor Lampton took over here, leaning forward on the table. "Now our laws state that lycanthropes can lead relatively normal lives among the magical community, so long as they take certain precautions. First, all werewolves must register with our commission, which is, of course, the reason we've come here today." She turned to Marlowe specifically now. "You will be required to wear a small pin - nothing cumbersome - which makes you recognizable to other wizards, just in case."

Marlowe glanced at his mother. Her jaw was clamped shut very tightly. He could see the tension in her face. Her hands, clasped in her lap, were actually shaking.

"If you intend to go back to school, and later begin a career, you will have to list your status as a magical creature on all applications and deliver proof that you or someone else can consistently prepare the wolfsbane potion for you to prevent possible accidental attacks."

Neither of them spoke again. Marlowe did not know what to say. He felt belittled and stigmatized. For the first time since everything had happened, he felt ashamed of himself.

His mother seemed to have picked up on the same ideas as Marlowe, because she stood up, all five foot three of her looking dangerous. He saw Peter Stein cower under her glare and she was the only one in the room without a wand.

"Let me get one thing straight," she said. "My son is not a magical creature." Her voice was very low, but her words were sharp and punctuated, snapping at her listeners. "If you want a registration for his safety and for others, by all means, do it!" she said. Her saw her eyes widen, almost hysterical. "But don't you dare call him anything less than human."

Marlowe's cheeks grew red, but he was glad she had said it and not him.

"Of course, ma'am, so sorry," said the woman. There was kindness in her tone but her eyes showed her exasperation. Marlowe slid the papers she had in front of her across the table to himself, and, just because he felt like being spiteful, he used the pen from his letters to fill out the form, ignoring the quill that Mr. Stein offered. He shoved the papers back at them, folded his arms and stared down at his lap.

Neither he nor his mother said goodbye as the two wizards stood up and left, glancing at each other like they were not sure what to do about the situation. As soon as the door had closed behind them, Marlowe stood, crossed the short distance to the bed and crawled under the covers. He rolled onto his side and stared at the ugly portrait opposite him of a fat little man in a red vest.

He felt the mattress lower and then his mum's cool fingers on his back. She leaned down and kissed his head again. "Don't you listen to them, Marlowe," she said. She drew her fingers up and down his back for a long time.

Late that evening when his father stopped by  after his visit to the school, he opened his mouth to start talking about the results of his meeting with Professor Osset, but his mother intervened. "Later, okay?" she said.

Mr. Finnegan glanced at Marlowe and then back at his wife. "Oh," he said, "alright. Why? What's up bud?"

"I don't want to talk about it," said Marlowe.

The little pin that the ministry wizards had left lay on the table. Marlowe could not bear to put it on yet. And though it was out of sight, he already felt the weight of it, singling him out every day for the rest of his life.

His mother sat on his bedside for a long time, the three of them quiet. He knew his parents were communicating silently behind his back. Eventually, he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep so that they could talk. He just did not want to be involved in the conversation.

His mother recapped what had happened in hushed tones.

"Well," said his father softly, "it's insensitive to put it in those terms, but they were just doing their job weren't they? Werewolves are... well they're an odd case certainly, but they've been classified as magical creatures just for ease, you know? It's just standard-"

"He's our son," she hissed. Marlowe thought that he had never truly appreciated his mother's odd relation to the magical world before. She had this unusual subjective outlook on the whole thing - both an insider and an outsider.

"I know, of course," said his father. "I know. He's- of course."

"What about you, what'd you find out?"

"Well the potion's no problem. We'll have to pay for the ingredients, but they'll have it made for him. The headmaster's not sure if the old Shrieking Shack is stable though. Apparently after the Battle of Hogwarts it was never repaired with the rest of the castle, but it went through some serious damage, and it's just been left there all these years."

Marlowe highly doubted his mother had any idea what he was talking about. But she went along with it and said, "What are the other options?"

"He thinks they might be able to build a little place somewhere in the forest, nothing fancy - he'll only be there a few months, now."

They were silent for a few minutes, then he felt his mum's hand smoothing down the back of his shirt again. She pulled the covers up a few inches. "I can't believe he's in his last year already," she said.

"He's grown up so much this year," said his dad. "I just keep thinking... even a year ago... he wouldn't have had the guts to do that."

They were quiet again. His dad broke the silence. "I met her. The girl."

Marlowe's eyes popped open accidentally. He squeezed them back shut, hoping neither of them had noticed. "She was in Ravenclaw tower when I brought Elliot back. Real sweet girl. Came up and gave Elliot a big hug and introduced herself."

"I wish I could meet her," said his mum.

Marlowe could not stand it. His desire to know that Caiti was okay far outweighed his desire not to let his parents know that he was not actually asleep. He did not roll over to face them, but he asked, "How is she?" He gripped the corner of his pillow.

His father didn't speak right away so Marlowe rolled onto his back to look at him. "How is she, dad?"

"She's okay. Seemed sad I suppose."

Marlowe frowned.

"She didn't seem like she wanted to talk about it. But she said she was feeling better."

"Oh," said Marlowe. "Okay." He rolled back over to continue moping.

He felt his dad's calloused fingers on his upper arm, two firm pats. "She was worried about you, bud."

"Yeah," said Marlowe. "I know."

---

The Ravenclaw Quidditch team assembled in the locker room before their practice that Wednesday. Clara and Elodie sat side by side on the front bench. Elliot, stood in the back corner with his head down. He had only just returned to school the previous afternoon. Sean tried very hard to ignore Theo, sitting up straight and attentive. He had been trying to get on Sean's good side since Monday morning, to prove that he was not just taking advantage of Caiti, but Sean was skeptical.

No one had thought they would continue to practice without Marlowe. As he tried to think what to tell them, Sean had never truly realized how relieved he was not to have been made captain in the first place. Standing up in front of them all was nerve-wracking, made worse by the fact that none of them felt they should be here.

"Alright, uh... listen. I've talked to Marlowe, and, he definitely wants us to play," Sean began. "And... he's uh... he's sent me all his plans and stuff. Charlie, you'll be filling in for him," he said, with a nod at an auburn haired boy sitting to Elodie's right.

No one spoke. The team's usual banter was gone. Sean pulled up a plastic chair and sat down opposite his team. "Hey... guys. This sucks. And it feels really wrong to be here without Marlowe, but it's really important to him that we still play. And that we win. So let's... let's try and pull ourselves together. And do it for him, right? We can't win if we just... sit around and wish things were different. And I think that if we lose to Slytherin, Marlowe will personally murder me, so..."

He trailed off, hoping for some support. Marlowe was a good captain, a comfortable leader, able to skirt the fine line between friend and authority easily. Sean was much more comfortable being the role model from afar than actually telling people what to do.

"So what's the plan?" asked Clara.

Sean half smiled in relief, and began to explain.

---

Caiti arrived back in the common room late on Thursday night. She had been spending every evening in the potions classroom, heading down straight after classes finished, running up to the great hall for a quick dinner, and then returning to work on her homework in the quiet. She had not told anyone where she was going. She knew Theo, who she had been spending most of her time with, was curious, but he did not ask. There was only one person Caiti had ever told about her habit of hanging out there, and that person was Marlowe.

She planned, as usual, to go straight to bed, avoiding talking to Sean or Evelyn who were walking on needles around her, scared anything they said might tip her over the edge. All she wanted was to be treated normally, and that was why Theo was the perfect person to hang around with. He did not know how to address the situation, so he talked to her about homework and quidditch and let her joke around with him and his friends, and made her forget - sort of - for the short bursts of time that she could stand to be around people, that anything was wrong.

Tonight he was seated in a chair she had to pass on the way to her dorm. She smiled at him as she walked past, not intending to stop.

"Hey, uh Caiti?"

She paused. "Yeah?"

"Never mind," he said.

"No, what's up?" she asked, tipping her head a little to one side.

"No, it's..." he shook his head. "It's probably insensitive. I shouldn't. I just had a question... need some advice."

"Go for it," said Caiti.

He looked up at her for a few seconds before he spoke again. "Okay, well..." He gave her this nervous smile, but stopped talking again.

"What, Theo?" asked Caiti. She laughed a little, starting to smile too.

He looked up at the ceiling, just his eyes, and took a deep breath like he was preparing to admit something very embarrassing. "I really fancy Clara Hall - you know from quidditch? - and I want to ask her to go to Hogsmeade with me for Valentine's Day this weekend, but I don't know how to do it, please help." He spoke very quickly, all in one breath.

Caiti's mouth fell open. "Theo!" she said. "Aww!"

"Stop," he said, turning bright red. "I feel weird asking you, because... you know."

"Don't," she said. "We're friends. But seriously, let's think about this. I don't know her that well so tell me about her. What do you like?"

"Well she's shorter than me... that's one thing. And she's blonde."

"Oh my god, Theo. I know what she looks like. What do you like about her?" Caiti demanded. She sat herself down in an open armchair opposite him, leaning forward, elbows and forearms on her knees.

"Well she makes me very uncomfortable," he said. Caiti burst out laughing, and he waved his hand at her. "Stop, stop, stop. No, like... in a good way. I can't explain it. Like she's so self-assured, you know? She just doesn't care what you think. She's like a little firecracker. Because she's so tiny, but she's so strong and like... I'm pretty sure she could lift me up and body slam me if she wanted, which is terrifying, but like... also really cool? And I kind of love it when she shows off, which is a lot. And sometimes I think maybe she likes me too, because she tries to knock me off my broom with the bludgers a lot in practice."

"Wow," said Caiti, narrowing her eyes as she continued to laugh under her breath. "Sounds like she's smitten."

"No, no I just... I don't know how to explain. She's just really cool."

"I'm just teasing," Caiti smiled. "But you know what? I don't think you need to come up with anything special. Just ask her. If you're right, and pelting you with bludgers is her way of saying she's into you... then she likes you how you are. So don't try to like... be all tough. Just be you. Just ask her."

"Are you implying that I'm not tough?" he asked, grinning.

"Course not," said Caiti. "But you're still a teddy bear, remember?"

One side of Theo's lips quirked up. Caiti had used to tell him that all the time. "Thanks Caiti-Cat," he said.

She felt a little jolt in her stomach. No one but Theo had ever called her that, and she had not heard it since they had broken up. "No problem. Go get her."

She stood up to leave, but Theo started to rise too. "Hang on," he said. "Did you... were you planning to go to Hogsmeade? I bet... I mean I have to ask first... but I bet she wouldn't mind if you came."

Caiti smiled and shook her head. "That's okay. I uhm... I don't think I can walk past there yet."

"Oh," said Theo quickly. "Oh, right, of course. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Caiti patted him on the shoulder as she passed, heading upstairs for real this time. "Go ask her."

Upstairs, seated cross-legged on her bed, Caiti opened the letter she had received at breakfast that morning. She had read it through about a hundred times. It was, after all, very short. How are you, he had asked. How are you? That was all. She did not know what to say. She needed to see him. Sean had gotten a three page, very detailed letter. Caiti did not know what all he had written about, but it was hard not to be jealous. She traced over the word 'love' with her index finger before she put the note away again.

She could not possibly explain how she felt in a letter. She could not say thank you in writing, could not tell him what it had done to her to see him that way, to prove how much she missed him. She curled up on her side under her covers, eyes open, and tried to convince herself his letter had been so short because he felt the same way, that none of this could be put in words on a little piece of paper.

---

The common room was packed on Friday night, louder than on the weeknights because no one was doing any homework. Evelyn heard a lot of talk about next week's quidditch match. A bunch of second years by the window were holding a wizard's chess tournament which was getting rowdy. She kept glancing their way in case she needed to break out the prefect's badge.

"I feel like crap," said Sean dramatically. Evelyn rolled her eyes at him. They were sitting at a sofa facing the tall windows of the tower, overlooking a deep blue sky. The trees were black and shadowed in the dark. The night was starless and cloudy, only the thin light of the waning moon hanging in the sky.

"Don't beat yourself up," she said. He had been acting this way all week and it was driving her mad.

"Caiti won't even talk to me," he complained. "She can't actually have to meet with Professor Pym on a Friday night."

"She does have to," said Evelyn. "They're working on some potion. She's been going every week since before Christmas."

"Well... why won't she talk to me any other time?"

"She's just upset. You made a mistake. She felt hurt. She's already dealing with a lot, and... I guess dealing with that isn't high on her priority list at the moment. She'll come around. She can't stay mad at you forever."

Sean sighed and tipped his head back against the back of the couch. He shut his eyes. "My mum said she hasn't written at all. My parents are freaked out. I tried to ask her to write them, but she wouldn't listen to me."

"Want me to talk to her?" Evelyn asked.

"Would you?" asked Sean, sitting up quickly.

"Of course," she said.

Sean leaned forward, face in his hands. He slid his fingers to his temples, pulling at the skin, and Evelyn smoothed her hand across his back a few times, coming to rest in the middle of his spine.

"She's stressing me out more than Marlowe. He seems fine in his letter. All quidditch, like normal."

"I'll talk to her later, okay?" said Evelyn.

He nodded sitting up. "Yeah. Thanks." Evelyn rubbed his back again for a few seconds before she let her arm drop.

---

"Wow," said Professor Pym, giving the cauldron a stir. "Wow. This is a huge improvement."

Caiti smiled, really smiled, for the first time all week. "I practiced every day this week," she breathed. She ran a hand through her hair, tucking it behind her ear.

Professor Pym looked up, surprised. "Really," she said.

Caiti nodded. "I uhm... I thought maybe if I could learn quicker..." she trailed off.

"Of course," said her professor. "Mr. Finnegan is your friend."

Caiti nodded again, her smile faltering.

"Well, it's not quite safe to drink yet. But it's close. Nearly there. Really impressive, Caitlyn. I don't think you understand how gifted you are. I would never normally let a student try this potion."

Caiti flushed with pride, looking down at the green liquid. It was still too dark. She was having trouble timing it all exactly right so that it didn't overcook. But in their last meeting it had been almost black. At this rate of progress, she was sure she could get it right - perfect - in the next couple of tries.

"Alright, go ahead and go, enjoy your night, alright? We'll meet again next week."

Caiti began to pack up her things, but before she stood up she stopped and looked at her professor.

"Uhm... Professor?"

She looked back at Caiti.

"Do you... I mean.. I don't know what you've heard about everything that happened... "

"I've heard it all," she said quietly.

"Right," said Caiti. "I just wondered... I want to say thank you... and I don't really know- I thought maybe if I could... if I could make this... and help, you know... do you think...?"

"If it were me," said Professor Pym, her voice low, "it would be more than enough."

"Okay," said Caiti, relieved. She stood. At the door, Professor Pym called her name and Caiti turned around again, hand on the doorknob.

"You've got a good friend there," she said, frowning slightly. "And so does he."

---

"Caiti?" Evelyn peeked inside Caiti's room. She had just seen her walk upstairs without stopping to talk to anyone.

"Oh, hi Ev," said Caiti. This surprised Evelyn. They had barely spoken all week. She had expected some pushback at least, but Caiti looked more cheerful than she had seen her since Saturday night.

"Hi." Evelyn just stood there, not sure, now that Caiti was acting this way, what to say to her. She didn't want to be the reason she grew upset all over again. "How was your meeting?" she asked finally.

"Great," said Caiti. She sat down on her bed, cross-legged.

"What are you working on?" she asked.

"Oh, it's- it's a secret," Caiti decided.

Evelyn decided not to push her. "Oh. Well... I'm glad it went well."

Caiti nodded. Evelyn just stood there, not sure how to change the subject.

"Did you need something?" Caiti asked after a while.

"Yeah. Can I sit down?" She tugged on the ends of her hair.

"Sure."

Evelyn came and sat on the bed next to her. "Listen," she said, voice soft. She was so scared of upsetting her. "Sean is..." Immediately at Sean's name, Evelyn saw Caiti's face harden. "I'm sorry-" she said quickly. "I know you're mad at him. He messed up. I told him so. But he's really worried about you, Caiti. You know he loves you so much. And I think he feels a little responsible for you."

"I can take care of myself," said Caiti. Her eyes were dark and slightly narrowed.

"Of course. I'm not saying he's your parent, I'm just saying, as your older brother, I think he feels like he has to look out for you, whether or not you want him to. And he feels so bad about what he said. You know he didn't meant it, Caiti."

"I don't want to talk about this right now," said Caiti, her voice tight.

"Okay, we don't have to, but just... will you please think about talking to him? He'll leave you alone if that's what you want, but I think it would do you both good to... talk about it. You're the two people Marlowe's closest to, you know?" Evelyn stood up again. Caiti sat in stony silence, glaring at Miriam's bed with her lips pressed tightly together.

Evelyn took a few tentative steps away. "Oh... and Caiti? Write your parents, okay? They're worried."

Caiti didn't respond, so Evelyn walked out, shutting the door with the handle turned all the way so it wouldn't click when it shut.

Outside the door she let out a heavy breath, shut her eyes for a second, and then continued up the spiral staircase to her own dormitory.