Seventeen. Seeds.
Marlowe hated match days. It sucked, not getting to play. Elliot had been sending home a letter a day all about the Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff game the following weekend and how excited he was to play in his first ever real match. Marlowe had written him back with well wishes and some "professional" advice, but if he was being honest with himself, he was jealous.
He missed playing quidditch. Actually playing. Whacking a bludger as hard as he could wasn't nearly as much fun when he wasn't trying to thwart someone else getting the snitch or throwing the quaffle.
He and the other reserves sat together watching the team walk out onto the field. It was only a few days until the full moon and he was already starting to feel shaky and feverish, but he would have gladly fought through it to have been out there. The fact that he'd probably never play a game this whole season made him feel purposeless.
The other guys were joking and making bets about the outcome of the match (most of them in favor of the other team because they'd been around long enough to be realists). A few were stretching or hopping around, keeping warm in case they had to go in.
The announcer called out the names of the players on the opposing team — they were playing the Kenmare Kestrals today, the team Marlowe had supported since he was a kid — and they soared up into the air to a larger burst of applause than any of the Chudley Cannons ever got, even though they were playing at their home field today.
Still, the announcer built up the suspense for the home team like they had a jam-packed stadium and an unbeatable record. "And now, your very own... Chudley CANNONS," he said, magically amplified voice booming over the half empty crowd. "On the field today, we've got our chasers Damon MACKEY, Eoghan MAGUIRE, and Brennan LYNCH." The three chasers swooped into the air, circling the field once before coming to their starting positions.
Marlowe smiled to himself at the announcer's odd cadence.
"What are you chuckling about?" asked Patrick, looking ready to heckle Marlowe for whatever dirt he could get on him.
Something about being drawn into their gameday world made Marlowe decide to stop feeling sorry for himself. He let his smile grow. "I was just thinking," he said, "how that guy talks like someone electrocutes him every time he says a last name."
The others guys listened as the announcer called out beaters Brian MCSORLEY and Eddie WATERS. They started to smile. By the time keeper Sterling CRAWFORD and seeker Aaron SUTTON had been announced, every was laughing outright, a few of them with tears in their eyes.
"And down in the reserve box, itching for a chance to dust off their brooms," Marlowe started, whipping out his best impression, "It's Patrick DONNELY, Liam O'REILLY, and Mick FULLER." This had the other guys practically falling off the benches with laughter so Marlowe kept going, announcing every one of his fellow seconds and reserves with increasing drama. He amped it up until he was really acting like he was being electrocuted every time he reached a last name.
"Stop," gasped Mick. "I can't breathe." He was buckled over his knees, swiping tears out of his eyes and laughing so hard he was almost wheezing.
"I've been— on this team— eight years— and never thought of it like that," choked out Liam. "I swear to god, he's done it the same way every time, too."
And they were all reduced to fits of laughter again, most of them beyond the point of sound. Marlowe's cheeks ached from smiling so hard. He hadn't in such a long time. It felt good to be joking around again, making people laugh. It was what he had always done, and sometimes, now, it felt like he'd forgotten how.
"Goddamn it, I love this fucking team," said Patrick when he had finally begun to recover himself. "That's the thing about playing for a team that never wins. We get to have fun."
Marlowe sat back, still grinning, and looked up at the match. The team was already losing thirty nil, but he didn't care.
—-
On Friday, Caiti arrived in the Great Hall just in time to see the owls swoop in with the morning's mail. She hurried to a seat, eyes up and crossed her fingers for good measure. It had been two and a half weeks since Caiti had written a letter to the Sun Violet Foundation. She was dying or a response. Every morning when the owls arrived, her heart skipped a beat with hope, and then sank again when there was nothing. Even the letters Marlowe sent her were a bit of a letdown these days, only because seeing any owls heading her way sent her heart beating fast against her chest.
Besides, the likelihood of Marlowe having sent anything today was slim. She would see him that evening. It was another full moon.
She was more anxious for a response now than she had been when she sent out the letter in the first place, because since then, she'd had time to research, and her research... Caiti didn't want to get hr hopes up, but her gut said it was promising. There was something to this plant.
In the days following her private lesson with Professor Pym, Caiti scoured the library for any mention of the Sun Violet. Professor Pym even helped her sift through the restricted section records for anything that might give her more information about the potion it had once been used in. So many of the books there were checked out so seldom that the cards they'd been written up on were moth eaten or smudged beyond recognition, but they managed to find a few relatively useful bits here and there.
Most importantly, they found the recipe it had been used in. Caiti hadn't been able to make it, of course, with it's key ingredient so rare and difficult to come by, but even seeing the steps, the other ingredients it mixed with... any of it could come into play somewhere down the line.
When an owl started to swoop towards her, Caiti's heart started hammering again. "Please, please, please," she whispered to herself.
For a moment, she thought the owl was going to drop the letter in front of a fourth year sitting nearby, but then it whipped around, released the letter by Caiti, and circled back up again, the powerful flap of its wings rustling her hair as it went.
Caiti fumbled for the letter and turned it over to see the address. Unfamiliar handwriting. This had to be it. It was quite thick as well.
She ripped it open and pulled out the contents.
Caitlyn O'Connell,
Thank you very much for your letter and for your interest in the preservation of the Sun Violet. We apologize for the delay in our response — we had to work with a translator and the back and forth took some time. It is not often we are contacted by anyone outside of Namibia. The plant isn't well-known anymore.
As you suggested, there are very few Sun Violets growing wild in the world. Other more dominant species of both magical and non-magical plants tend to take over and the Sun Violet can't compete. It is very delicate. It's roots can be pulled up easily until it's been growing for quite some time, which is why it does best in greenhouses. Even there, it is a very temperamental plant. The amount of water needed to keep it healthy varies based on the length of the stem and even a little too much or too little can kill it. It needs more hours of direct sunlight than are available in a day even in the summer, and therefore must be kept under a lamp as often as possible.
We have attached several reports for your benefit about the work we do here, our knowledge about the plant's properties and magical uses, and the specifics of its care. We have also included a packet of three seeds. It is of great interest to use to have someone else to communicate with about our Sun Violet who might help us test and research.
These seeds are worth quite a lot of money and we are happy to gift them to you if this is something you wish to invest in, but ask that you kindly send them back if you are unable to take on the responsibility.
Please do not hesitate to reach out if you have further questions. We look forward to your communication and the results of your own growth experiment.
Many thanks and best wishes,
The Sun Violet Foundation
Adem Auala, Imka Pandeni, Kaikura Yaotto, Mattys Mbai, and Abebi Dacosta
The moment Caiti had finished reading the letter, before she'd even had a chance to glance through the rest of the information, she looked up at the head table and saw that Munslow was not there. She snatched everything up, flung her back over her shoulder, and hurtled out into the entrance hall again. She hadn't had a single bite of breakfast, but she didn't care if she was hungry.
She had to go talk to Professor Munslow before classes started and she had to be back in the castle. She hadn't planned on being outside today so she hadn't worn her cloak, but that didn't matter either. She barely even felt the damp cold as she hurried across the grounds towards the greenhouses.
"Caiti," said her professor when she banged through the door, panting. "It's not- I mean, it is Friday isn't it? You don't have my class today."
"No," she said, still catching her breath. "That's why I ran. Wanted to- talk to you before- class." She held out the letter in her hand. "It's a plant I've been researching, for something I'm doing for potions. They sent me seeds." She paused here to take a few deep breaths and then continued on at lightning speed. "It's really difficult to grow and it's really, really rare and these seeds are so expensive but they sent them to me because I'm interested in the plant and I thought maybe you could help me grow it, so I don't screw it up too bad. I want to study it. I think it could be... I think it could have a lot of uses," she fudged.
Professor Munslow looked down at the letter in her hands and skimmed through it, looked at the articles they'd provided and the care information, glanced at the little packet of seeds, and then looked back at Caiti. "I suppose we could give it a whirl," he said. He looked positively stunned by how eager she was to learn about this plant. Caiti had always been a decent herbology student and she'd kept it up into N.E.W.T. levels because of its connection to potion-making, but he had to know it wasn't her real passion. She didn't know of anyone in her year who really had a passion for Herbology. Mostly it was the students who had a good enough score on their O.W.L. they thought, why not? Or otherwise it was the students like her who needed to continue it if they expected to go into a specific career path.
"Why don't you stop by after classes this afternoon? Are you free?"
"For a little while," said Caiti with a nod. "I'd have to go at about two fourty fice. I have to make Marlowe's potion." All the professors knew about this, because Caiti had to have special permission to leave class a bit early on full moon days in order to get started on it.
"Of course," he said.
"But I can come by before that. During the free period. We could at least look over some of this."
"Well," said Professor Munslow with a nod and a bewildered smile. "I look forward to that. This should be fun."
"Yeah," said Caiti. She heard voices outside approaching the greenhouse. "I'd better go."
"Yes," he agreed. "I'll see you this afternoon." Caiti smiled and then she hurried back out of the greenhouse again and towards the castle.
—-
Sean actually beat Evelyn home for once. It was probably the first time he'd had the flat to himself since they'd moved in. Evelyn left after him, arrived home earlier, and was home all weekend.
It was nice, the quiet. There had never been quiet at Hogwarts, either. There were always people around. Sean liked to be alone sometimes. These days, he would have liked to be alone a lot more than he was.
Back in school, this was one of the reasons he'd always liked his quidditch position. He stuck to one general area of the field and could spend large portions of each match with no one anywhere nearby, especially if his team was winning and therefore spending a lot of time down at the opposite team's goalposts. It was the most solitary of all the positions. The chasers and beaters worked together and even the seeker ended up zipping through the chaos from time to time.
Sean liked that he had one place to be and one role that only he was responsible for. He liked that he knew exactly what he was meant to do when the time came and that, more often than not, he could see it coming and prepare accordingly. He liked knowing what to expect.
This was something Sean knew for certain about himself after the tournament. Just the thought of the unknown looming over him all year had nearly killed him.
He thought this was also why he'd probably liked Evelyn so much from the get go. She was very predictable. She knew who she was.
Still, it was nice that tonight she had been a little unpredictable.
Sean heated up leftovers from the night before and sat down at the table to eat, savoring the lack of forced conversation, the absence of the small talk and the questions about his day and the babbling about the kids that always pestered him through dinner.
When he was done, he sat on the couch. Evelyn's blankets were neatly folded in the basket in the corner — evidence she hadn't been home since that morning. She always had one out, usually the one he'd gotten her last Christmas.
Sitting there, he realized he wasn't sure what to do with himself. He hadn't done much of anything but work in months. He could have gotten out something to work on, of course, but he was tired, and if he started up again, he'd stay up late. It was better to leave it and get up early tomorrow morning. Evelyn hated that he worked all weekend, but she didn't understand how much more stressful the week would be if he didn't, and stress was something he couldn't handle even a drop more of.
She arrived home not long after, her nose pink with cold and her hair up in a braid. She wore a puffy vest over a gray sweater and a pair of fuscia leggings.
"You're home," she said in surprise, and she looked pleased to see him. Sean couldn't decide if he was pleased to see her or not.
"Yeah," he said.
"Did you eat already? I should've asked if you wanted me to bring you something. I went out with Margaret. She's got a date tomorrow with this muggle guy she met last weekend and she's freaking out because she knows nothing about muggles and obviously he doesn't know she's a witch yet, so she had all sorts of questions and things."
All Sean said was, "Yeah, I ate already."
"Okay, good,' said Evelyn. "Sorry I didn't think to bring you anything though. It was really good, the place we went to. It's near the library. We should go sometime. You would like it."
"Sounds good," said Sean. He was exhausted already.
"What about you?" she asked, sitting down cross legged on the couch. She dropped her bag on the coffee table. "How was work?"
He shrugged. "It was work." Sean leaned back and put his feet up on the table, eyes out the dark window. He could still feel her watching him, but he had noticed that the less he looked at her, the sooner she quieted down.
"Well," she said. "It's the weekend now, right?" The hopeful quirk of her voice, the almost smile made Sean feel the slightest twinge of guilt.
"I've got to get up early and work tomorrow though," said Sean. "I have a lot to do."
"Oh," said Evelyn. "All day?"
"Probably."
"Well, maybe Sunday we could do something. If you get everything done tomorrow. You need a break."
"Maybe," said Sean. "If I can get it all done. But it'll probably take both days."
Evelyn was quiet. "Well..." she said. She adjusted her position. "We'll see I guess."
After a few minutes of unfomortable silence, she got up and went into the bedroom.
Sean followed her in about twenty minutes later to get ready for bed and found her sitting up against the pillows with a book open in her lap. She had a new one just about every day it seemed like. She'd taken ou ther braid now and the hair around her face was wavy where it had been twisted.
She didn't look up from the page when he came in. Sean went into the bathroom to brush her teeth, keeping the door open. He watched her through the mirror, blue eyes scanning back and forth, bottom lip sucked in.
She must have felt him watching her, because she looked up and towards him. They made brief eye contact in the mirror and then Sean bent over to spit out his toothpaste. For some reason, the fact he hadn't held her gaze made him feel that same uncomfortable twinge as before.
When he came out of the bathroom again, her eyes were back down on the page. "Are you going to bed?" she asked without looking up.
"Yeah," he said.
Evelyn hurried to finish her page, stuck her bookmark in and said. "You can turn out the light. I'm just gonna go shower so..." She put the book down on the bedside table and got up. "In case you're asleep already..."
She kissed him, said, "Goodnight," and then she shut the bathroom door behind her. Sean listened to her moving around behind the door, opening and closing drawers and bottles, listened to the water turn on and run for a few minutes and then turn off again.
It was only when he heard the door handle turn that he shut his eyes. Warm steamy air spilled into the room and a minute later, he felt Evelyn climb into bed next to him, smelling like coconut. It almost made him want to roll towards her and pull her into his arms, but it had always been Evelyn to snuggle up to him and Sean who'd just gone along with it, and anyway she'd laid down facing away from him. And her hair was all wet. So Sean stayed put.
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