When the mail arrived, Caiti glanced up at the owls, but only for a moment. She had an exam in charms that morning that she had barely studied for and she had gotten a letter from Marlowe the day before so it was unlikely there would be anything arriving for her today. They were on a pretty predictable schedule. He sent a letter one day. She sent one back the next.

It was, therefore, a bit surprising when a very distinguished looking barn owl soared down and landed beside Caiti at the table, an unusually large envelope clutched in its beak.

Caiti frowned at first, and then she caught sight of the crest on the seal and her heart started pounding. LBP. Libatius Borage Prize.

She stared at the envelope. The owl hooted at her impatiently, ruffling its feathers, but Caiti couldn't bring herself to touch it.

It was a big envelope. She didn't want to let herself hope that meant she was a finalist, but her heart was already fluttering at the thought. The owl snapped its beak, stomped its little feet, and fixed her with a look that could only be described as a glare. Finally, it just dropped the envelope beside her and circled upward again.

Tentatively, Caiti reached out and took the envelope. She put her finger under the flap to open it, but she froze again. It was too much to hope she had even been in consideration. She was easily the youngest person to send in a proposal. Her work was almost entirely theoretical. It had been a long shot from the beginning.

Caiti took a few deep breaths and tried to talk herself down. When she was marginally convinced her expectations were lowered, she shut her eyes and ripped open the seal. Slowly, very slowly, she slid out the first piece of parchment inside, and only when it was out and clutched in both hands did she open her eyes again.

She looked deliberately at the very top edge of the parchment, letting her eyes trail over the letterhead and the formal address.

And then there was the word congratulations and Caiti's heart started pounding again.

Miss Caitlyn O'Connell,

It is with great pleasure and many congratulations that we write to you today as the winner of the 2019 Libatius Borage Prize.

There were many other words after that, but Caiti couldn't read them, because her eyes had welled up with tears. She clapped a hand over her mouth in disbelief.

"Oh my god," she choked out.

Amelia was sitting nearby and she looked up at these words. "Are you okay?" she asked. When Caiti didn't answer, she slid over and looked at the letter Caiti still held in her other hand.

"Did you get bad news?" she asked, but then she read the same first sentence as Caiti and looked up at her.

"You entered this?"

Caiti nodded. She drew her hand up her cheek and pushed back her hair.

You won?" Amelia asked.

Caiti couldn't answer that.

But Amelia didn't really need her to. She'd read the beginning of the letter. The other girls had grown curious now and since Caiti didn't seem able to answer anyone's questions, Amelia took it upon herself to tell everyone what had happened.

"She won the Libatius Borage Prize," Amelia said loudly. Almost everything Amelia said was loud.

"No way," said Miriam with a skeptic frown. "Hogwarts students don't win stuff like that."

"Well Caiti did," said Amelia. "She's got the letter right there. Has her name on it."

Miriam and Lila got up and gathered behind Caiti to look at the letter too.

"You don't think it's been faked?" asked Miriam.

"Who would fake something like that? She said she entered it," Amelia said.

"Well I didn't know that."

"No one did. But she told me just now. I asked and she nodded."

They continued to talk around Caiti like she wasn't even there but she couldn't contribute anyway. She couldn't take her eyes off those words: congratulations, winner, her own name.

And while they bickered, the news started to spread across the Great Hall. First down the Ravenclaw table and then to the other house tables starting with the groups nearest Caiti and trickling out from there until it seemed like the whole hall was buzzing with the news.

Caiti didn't know who started it, only that seemingly all of the sudden, everyone in the room was clapping.

For only a few seconds, she looked around the room with already wet eyes, caught sight of Professor Pym hurrying towards her, and real tears started to leak out.

Professor Pym put her hand on Caiti's shoulder and looked down at the letter. She heard her reading to herself, but couldn't make out the actual words over all the clapping, only that she made it much farther into the text than Caiti had.

When Professor Pym got to the end of the letter, she sat down backwards on the bench and pulled Caiti into a tight hug that she hadn't realized she needed.

"I am so proud of you," she said. "So unbelievably proud."

Caiti couldn't speak.

As the applause started to die down, she pulled back and looked back at the letter again. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

Miss Caitlyn O'Connell,

It is with great pleasure and many congratulations that we write to you today as the winner of the 2019 Libatius Borage Prize. We were moved by your story and, more importantly, impressed by the quality of the research you have already begun. Your attention to detail is impeccable, your methods sound, and your technical abilities are already gathering notice across the potion-making community in Britain.

While there were many excellent applications this year, we feel confident in selecting you for this opportunity. As you are likely aware, the winner of this prize receives a 10,000 galleon prize towards the continuation of the proposed research as well as a mentorship and access to an impressive collection of professional publications, research materials, and facilities for running safe tests.

We look forward to seeing what you are able to accomplish with this additional support. There are already several candidates vying for the chance to mentor you and that number will likely grow after you present your research at the awards banquet on Saturday the 23rd of March (full details of the event enclosed in the following documents).

Again, we offer our most heartfelt congratulations and our confidence that you are truly the best and brightest of young potion makers working in the field today. We look forward to learning more about your work in your presentation and to helping you expand upon the great beginnings you have set in motion.

With warm regards,

The Selection Panel of the 2019 Libatius Borage Prize

(Full Qualifications of the Panel included in the enclosed documents)

And then there was a selection of signatures Caiti knew she would treasure like autographs later on when the shock of winning had worn off.

"I can't believe it," she whispered. Professor Pym put a comforting hand on Caiti's back, but she was in the middle of another conversation, with, Caiti realized for the first time, the headmaster.

"Yes of course, I'll see if Madame Swenson can't cover your classes for the morning. Miss O'Connell, what's your schedule this morning?"

It took Caiti a moment to realize he was addressing her. "Oh," she said a beat too late. "I have an exam in charms and then I have muggle studies."

"Not a problem. Not a problem. We'll talk to your professors and let them know you won't be there today. Why don't the two of you head down to my office and try to get ahold of her parents. I'll meet you there in a few minutes."

"My parents?" asked Caiti who was having a difficult time keeping up. She still felt like she was in a bubble inside the Great Hall, not quite a part of all the celebration. The news itself was taking its sweet time to sink in.

"They ought to hear the news in person, don't you think?" Professor Pym said, getting to her feet.

No one had gotten ahold of her parents when Sean had been made Triwizard champion. They'd found out ahead of the Daily Prophet only because Caiti had written them a letter.

She dwelled on this as she and Professor Pym walked up the aisle. Other students called out congratulations as she passed and Caiti heard herself say high-pitched thank yous in return.

Once they were in the hall, Professor Pym's footsteps echoing on the stone floor, Caiti looked at her and asked, "Is this a bigger deal than I realized?"

"Caiti," she said, shaking her head, "This is enormous. This is one of the most prestigious, respected prizes in the entire magical world. To win it at your age is unheard of. The youngest person to ever win was twenty eight years old."

"You told me you thought I could be a finalist though. You said that wasn't out of the realm of possibility or you wouldn't have had me enter at all."

"I did think that," she said. They were nearing the headmaster's office now. "I was confident you would make the longlist at a minimum and more likely the shortlist." She paused outside the office door.

"I have always believed in your talent, Caiti. Always. I saw it from your very first potions class when you were eleven years old. But talent isn't enough and in the last few months, in particular since the day I asked you to just consider entering this contest, you've shown me I grossly underestimated what you can do. It's more than following a recipe, being a potion maker. It's more than knowing how to adjust on the spot. You are doing the real work of potion making. I see it. This panel clearly saw it, too."

Caiti didn't know what to say.

"You work so hard," Professor Pym said gently. "You want this. That shows."

Caiti's eyes were stinging and she thought she might be about to cry again so she just nodded and turned towards the statue guarding the headmaster's office. They entered together, Professor Pym's hand on Caiti's back again.

Barely twenty minutes later, Professor Osset had returned, Caiti's parents had been summoned, and the three of them sat anxiously waiting for their arrival. Caiti clutched the letter in her hands, too stirred up to read through the rest of the documents they'd provided, but too shocked to do more than stare at the top of the first page.

She jumped when the fireplace wooshed and her mum stepped out. A moment later, her dad followed. Both of them looked ready to ground Caiti for the rest of her life.

Professor Osset must have picked up on this too, because he was quick to say, "Mr. and Mrs. O"Connell, I'm so glad you could meet us here. We're sorry it was on such short notice, but we have very good news to share."

And then he looked expectantly at Caiti.

The expressions on her parents' faces shifted to confusion. She stared at her mum in particular. She was wearing her work robes, the really neat ones she always kept perfectly pressed. Caiti couldn't stop thinking about the way she'd reacted when Caiti had told her she was thinking about submitting a proposal. She had doubted her. She had not even thought it possible for Caiti to be in consideration.

She wished she felt vindicated, but she didn't. She felt confused.

Professor Osset filled her silence by ushering her parents into chairs.

"Caiti, what is it?" asked her dad.

She looked down at the envelope again.

"Uhm," Caiti said. Her mouth felt like it was full of glue. Tacky, almost dry glue.

She glanced at Professor Pym for help.

"Back in December," she said slowly, "I encouraged Caiti to submit a proposal for the Libatius Borage Prize. She was doing some research on her own time and had shared bits of it with me and I was very impressed with her."

And then Caiti blurted out, "I won."

"You won?" asked her mum.

Caiti hesitated, then nodded. She held out the letter.

Her dad took it, held it between the two of them, and they leaned in to read.

Her dad started to smile, a big smile, a smile like he had for Sean when he'd been made prefect and then Head Boy, like he'd had watching Sean compete in the Triwizard Tournament. A proud smile.

"Caiti," her dad said. "Caiti, this is incredible. I can't believe it."

Nothing Caiti did usually generated this kind of reaction from him and that was shocking enough, but what surprised her even more was that her mum had started to cry.

Caiti was the emotional one in their family. She was the only one who couldn't keep her tears in, who didn't hide behind a wall of practiced poise and professionalism. She had never seen her mum cry before.

Hesitantly, she got up and walked a little closer to her but then she didn't know what to do so she just hung there halfway between the chair she'd just vacated and the place where her mum sat with her hand over her nose, blinking hard to try to staunch the tears.

"Mum?"

She got up and she pulled Caiti into the tightest hug she could remember. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry," she whispered.

And all Caiti's weird feelings — the shock of winning, the feeling of inadequacy as the entire school had clapped for her, her hesitation to tell her parents the news — they all came bubbling up at once and she sobbed. She had cried in the Great Hall. She had nearly cried again talking to her professor. But that was nothing compared to how she cried realizing that her mum believed for the first time that Caiti had a real shot at working professionally in potions.

It was the biggest release, like she'd just dropped a huge load she hadn't known she'd been carrying. Caiti truly hadn't known how much she'd needed her mum to feel proud of her the way she had always been proud of Sean. She hadn't known how much she'd needed her to see that Caiti might not have been a model student the way Sean was, but she was good at something.

At some point, Professor Pym must have started explaining more, because Caiti heard her voice, but her brain didn't have the capacity left to pay attention, so she just squeezed her mum back tight.

—-

The next two days were a blur. Caiti was too overwhelmed to begin working on the presentation she would have to give the following month, especially because she had not yet told Marlowe.

Everyone had asked if she wanted to tell him or even to tell Sean and Evelyn. Professor Osset was ready to go and collect them right then and there. But Caiti had refused. She didn't want to tell Marlowe in front of everyone. It would have to be a delicate conversation. And she could not tell Sean and Evelyn before she told him. She would see him for the full moon that night.

Caiti was more nervous to tell him she'd won than she had been sending off the owl that had carried away her proposal.

She told herself it would be fine, that Marlowe would be more excited about the fact she'd won than annoyed at the material of her research. But the closer the time came for her to leave to deliver his potion, the more she didn't believe this.

It had been exactly one year. One year since he had been bitten. Twelve times he had transformed. Eleven times she had made the wolfsbane potion for him, all but the very first time when he'd still been in the hospital. It had been eleven months since she'd brought it to him that first time and they had fought.

It was hard to picture a scenario in which Marlowe would not blow up at her again unless she worded her news just exactly the right way. On another day, on a week far from the full moon when he felt like himself, Caiti presumed he would take it fine. On another full moon night, he might even take it okay.

On a full moon night, on the one year anniversary, a fact she knew he hadn't overlooked, Marlowe would not be in his most forgiving mood.

And she knew he did not like big gestures.

Marlowe didn't like to be taken care of. He didn't like people to worry about him. He had said so many times that one of his favorite things about Caiti was that she made him feel completely normal, that she didn't fuss about him and how he was managing. She just talked to him.

Caiti felt sick to her stomach the entire time she brewed Marlowe's potion. She knew it was long past due that she told him what she'd been working on all year, knew that if she didn't tell him now, she would regret it, but still, she was so afraid of his reaction.

Caiti's hands shook as she sunk her fingers into the bowl of floo powder. She pulled out a fistful and stepped into the fireplace, promised herself it would be fine, that she could spin it to focus so much more on the grant than on the research itself, and then she left before she could convince herself not to say anything.

Marlowe was in the kitchen when she arrived, but he appeared around the doorframe as soon as she'd stepped out of the fireplace. She brushed the soot off herself as best she could and let him pull her into a tight hug.

"Hey," he said, kissing her cheek first and then her mouth. "It's good to see you."

He sounded calm but a little distant. He didn't smile.

"You too," she said, and she tried to smile but it didn't feel natural. Still, it was good to see him. Nerves and all. Every month, she was a little closer to the end of the year, a little closer to not having to limit her contact with him to these horribly brief meetings on a night she knew he both dreaded and looked forward to.

"Here," she said, holding out the potion. "Drink this, alright?"

He took it from her, uncapped the top, and made a face like he was preparing himself before he drank, downing it all at once as usual, so he wouldn't have to go in for seconds.

"Forgot to get water," he said when it was gone. "Give me a second." And he went back into the kitchen for his cup. Caiti's heart pounded.

He returned a minute later, refreshed, and they sat down on the couch.

Caiti opened her mouth to tell him her news, but he beat her to it. He asked how Evelyn and Sean had seemed when she'd met up with them in Hogsmeade. He apologized again for not being able to make it himself. He told her about his few interactions with their friends and what he'd noticed. He told her something about quidditch that week and asked how she was feeling about N.E.W.T.s coming up. He talked about how many days were left of their countdown to the end of the school year. He told her how one of his teammates' wives was going to have a baby in a few months and he just might get a chance to play, if the match were to run a very long time and they were to need to sub in alternates to give the starters a break.

He talked like he was trying really hard to distract himself from thinking about the fact that in a short while, he was going to go out to the little shed his dad had outfitted for him and endure a very painful transformation he did not want to make for the twelfth of many times. He talked like he was trying to pretend Caiti was only there for a visit and not because it had been one year since he'd been bitten by a werewolf.

She almost chickened out. She almost decided it was better not to tell him. But she wanted him to be there when she presented her research. She wanted him to hear how seriously she was taking it and how much progress she had actually made. The banquet was barely over a month away and it was on a day when he was sure to have a match. She had to tell him tonight, to see if there was any way he could get the day off.

Marlowe was actually gearing up to head outside when she finally blurted out, "Wait."

He sunk back down onto the couch.

"I uhm- I have some news," she said. "It's good news."

"Oh yeah?" asked Marlowe. "Are you dropping out so we can run away together?"

She smiled. "No, my parents would murder me. It's about potions, my private lessons with Professor Pym."

"You've got a job lined up?" asked Marlowe.

"Sort of," said Caiti. She took a deep breath.

"I actually... well I didn't say anything before because I didn't think I really had a chance and I was going to look stupid if I went around talking about it and nothing happened but I uhm... well Professor Pym asked me to think about entering the Libatius Borage prize. You know what that is?"

"Of course," Marlowe frowned. "I've known you long enough to know a thing or two about potions."

"Right. So... I did enter. In January, and I... I won?"

Marlowe didn't react right away. "You won?"

"I got the letter two days ago," she whispered.

"Oh my god," said Marlowe. "Caiti, are you serious?"

She nodded. Her heart was racing. It was going okay. She could make this work.

"It's ten thousand galleons and a mentorship to help me continue the research I've started and it's like... Marlowe, it's huge. I still don't really believe it."

"That's amazing," he said, pulling her into a hug. She squeezed her eyes shut. "What's the research about?"

At that, Caiti froze.

"The research?"

Marlowe pulled back to look at her. "Yeah, you said it's a mentorship to help you continue your research. What are you researching?"

"Oh," she said. "Right. Well... I was reading a book at the start of the year. And I got really interested in it and started doing a bunch of experimenting... messing around with different ingredients, that kind of thing. It wasn't anything serious. I was just interested. I don't really have anyone to talk to and it was something to keep me occupied."

Marlowe waited for her to go on.

"Professor Pym found out about it and... well she thought there was something to it, so she asked me to keep her updated and then... just before Christmas, she asked me if I'd be interested in applying for this grant." Caiti paused and took a deep breath and then everything started coming out in a rush. "It's a really big deal to win it and it was really far-fetched and everything, but she thought maybe I could make the finalists at least and that's good for a resume, so I said I'd do it."

"Yeah, but what is it actually about? Like what was the book?"

"It was about the Wolfsbane potion," she said, trying to slow herself back down.

"You already know how to make that."

"Yes," she agreed. "It just... it got me thinking about how I could... sort of improve upon it. Because I knew you were-"

She stopped suddenly. Marlowe had gone very, very still.

She hesitated, but he didn't say anything, so she cautiously kept going. "I wasn't really thinking I could make any kind of progress. Like I said I was just lonely, and I needed something to do. And I haven't solved anything yet, that's for sure. But I did sort of... well I stumbled across an ingredient that has a lot of potential to.... Like someday I might be able to use it to actually invent a potion that would..."

She trailed off. Marlowe wasn't looking at her but he looked livid. More mad than she'd ever seen him.

"To do what?" he asked shortly. "A potion that would do what?"

Caiti didn't want to say it anymore. She couldn't say it anymore. Her voice wouldn't work. She felt cold and shaky all over.

"Damn it, Caiti," snapped Marlowe. He got up and started pacing around the room. "You can't fix this. It happened."

"I didn't mean to start-" she began to say.

"Oh you didn't mean to, did you? You just accidentally spent months researching nothing in particular and just stumbled across something that would maybe stop me being a werewolf so your perfect little life could go back to normal and there'd be nothing shameful anymore?"

Caiti stood up, too. "Don't say that," she said. She wished her voice would stay steady, but she could barely control it. "I'm not ashamed of you. I wanted to help. I didn't want you to be-"

"You didn't want me to be a werewolf, I know," he said. The venom in voice punched right through her.

"I didn't say that," she said, voice rising. "You're taking this all backwards. I care about you, Marlowe. I wasn't thinking about me, I was thinking about you. It hurts you and I hate that."

But Marlowe wasn't listening to this last bit. He had started talking right over her. "Yeah, and I bet you were thinking how you could turn things back to how they used to be," he said coldly. "You can't change this. You can't. So stop fucking trying to pretend like it's something I can just get over, because you can't cure this. No one in thousands of years has ever been able to cure this, so stop trying, because an eighteen year old girl is never going to be able to do what a hundred thousand much more talented witches and wizards haven't been able to do in all of history. You're not that special."

The tears started pooling in Caiti's eyes. She didn't want to cry in front of him. She didn't want him to know how much his words had hurt. She couldn't help it though. They were already spilling down her cheeks.

"This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you," she choked out. "I knew you'd take it the wrong way. I'm trying to help you, because I love you and I care about you, not because I'm embarrassed or I wish things were different." She sucked in a deep shaking breath and then more words tumbled out, fast enough that she nearly tripped over them. "I mean of course I wish things were different. I wish it had never happened. But I'm not settling for how things are when I might be able to make it better somehow."

Her tears started to turn angry.

"But if you're settling... fine," she said, throwing her hands up. "I'll give it up. And you can forget about this potion, too," she said, picking up the empty bottle she had brought him. "See how you like that. Because this used to be inconceivable to everyone, for all of history until not very long ago. So maybe I can make it better with a lot of hard work and a lot more research, but maybe, I shouldn't fucking bother. Not like you'd appreciate it anyway."

In a low, dangerous voice, Marlowe said, "I don't want your help. I'm not settling. I'm accepting what happened. I'm not falling for some far fetched fantasy idea that'll never happen. Clearly they picked you to win because you had a sob story, so stop acting like a little kid who thinks miracles are possible and start living in reality with the rest of us. Ten thousand galleons isn't going to do what no one else has been able to. You. Can't. Fix this."

"Watch me," said Caiti and then she threw the bottle down on the ground where it smashed, sending bits of glass everywhere. She would feel bad about it later — it was his parents' house — but she was so angry right now, she couldn't process anything else. She turned around, grabbed a fistful of floo powder, and stomped into the fireplace, throwing the powder down with much more force than was necessary.

Back in the castle, she pushed right out the door of Professor Pym's office without saying anything to her, fumed all the way up to Ravenclaw tower, and finally, when she was alone in her dormitory, she started to cry again. She had hardly cried in months. She had felt so stuck. She needed to cry, wanted to even, but hadn't been able to force it out, and now all of it came tumbling down around her at once.

It wasn't just the things Marlowe had said to her. It was this whole year, the loneliness, and the anxiety about not knowing who to sit with at the dinner table. It was the dread she had felt boarding the train to come back after break, the way Hogwarts had lost all of its shiny parts for her, all of its warmth. The way she resented this place she had loved because the people she had loved it with weren't here and she was alone. It was the entire past year since Marlowe had been bitten, how difficult it had been and still was to process. It was the fact he'd done it for her, something that still stabbed her right in the chest every time she thought of it. It was knowing that Sean and Evelyn were still struggling to find their friendship again and everything was changing. It was the fact that they were all drifting apart and doing different things. It was the fact that she felt like she was racing to catch up with the rest of them, scared to be left behind and forgotten about while they moved on. It was her lingering fear of telling Marlowe about something she was so proud of and so invested in, because she had known he would have exactly the reaction he had. She had known he would not take it well.

She was a snotty mess in minutes, barely able to catch her breath. It wasn't even eight yet, so she didn't think anyone would come in for a long time, but then the bathroom door opened and Amelia took two quiet steps out, looking concerned. She had been there the whole time, probably listening at the door, not sure if she should announce that she was there or not.

"Are you okay?" she asked first, then shook her head. "That's a stupid question. You're not." And before Caiti knew what was happening, Amelia had sat down next to her on the bed and pulled her into a hug. It was a good hug too, a safe one. She'd never really hugged Amelia before. She had sort of assumed that her touch would be as flippant and menial as she usually was.

Amelia didn't ask any more questions. Caiti couldn't have answered them anyway. Not while crying this hard.

The hug helped though. It really helped. She didn't feel like Amelia was judging her or looking for gossip or any of the usual things she had felt around Amelia. She felt like she really cared.

When Caiti finally started to calm down, she let go of Amelia and said, "Marlowe and I got into a fight." She felt she owed her some kind of an explanation. "I'll be okay."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Amelia asked. "I won't tell anyone."

"Maybe," Caiti nodded. She took several deep shaky breaths, reached to the bedside table for a drink of water and sniffed hard.

"I'll get you a tissue," said Amelia. She hopped off the bed and came back holding out a whole box. Caiti pulled out a couple and did her best to clean herself up.

"Thanks," she said thickly.

Amelia just waited.

"He doesn't want my help," was all she could muster up the energy to explain. "He thinks I won because of the story and not because of the work."

"Or maybe he says he doesn't want your help," she said. "But really he's just afraid to get his hopes up."

Caiti nodded. "Maybe. I said some mean things."

Amelia blinked a few times.

"But so did he."

Amelia frowned deeper. "For what it's worth," she said, "Whenever I've seen you two together... you can see how much he loves you. It's like... it's the kind of stuff that makes people sick with jealousy. No one has a relationship that deep at this age."

"He was my best friend first," said Caiti. She looked up. "He knows me."

"I think you'll work it out."

Caiti nodded. She couldn't decide if she agreed. It was not the first time they had fought. She knew Marlowe wasn't quite himself tonight, but still. His words hurt more every time she thought about them.

For the next ten minutes, Amelia prattled on, in a much more Amelia-ish way, about this and that and why Marlowe would come to his sense, and even though it sounded like the annoying Amelia Caiti had always known, there was something very truthful about the things she actually said.

"Marlowe cares about you," she said after a while. "He does. But he's dealing with a lot. You said it's been exactly a year hasn't it? That must bring up old feelings again. I bet you anything what you're doing means more to him than he wants to admit and tonight was just... a reaction."

Caiti laid back on the pillows and stared up at the hangings over the bed. "I just don't know why we fight like this," she whispered. "It's not good."

"I don't know," said Amelia thoughtfully. "I think I'd rather fight because we both cared so much than not feel strongly about anything."

Caiti thought about how Sean and Evelyn had been all the past year and pressed her lips together. This didn't feel good, but maybe it was a little different.

"Thanks," Caiti said. She didn't say what for, but Amelia seemed to understand.

—-

The moment Caiti had left, Marlowe went straight out to the little shed his dad had converted for his full moon nights. He didn't even bother to clean up the broken glass all over the living room. His parents had come out of their bedroom at some point, during the argument he supposed, when his and Caiti's voices started to get too loud to ignore, but he hadn't noticed them until she was gone.

His mum tried to say something, but he wasn't in the mood to hear it. He went outside, shut himself in, and fell back on the couch.

He was glad, for once, that tonight, no one could follow him.

He was furious and he wanted to go on feeling that way for a good long time with no one trying to talk him down. He didn't want to be made to see sense. He wanted to fume and gripe and think lots of mean, horrible thoughts for a long, long time, because as long as he stayed mad, he couldn't regret how he'd acted.

Caiti had sworn at him, something she had never done before. He let himself replay that over and over again, not thinking about the fact that he had sworn at her too.

He let himself believe every one of the things he had told her she was thinking: that she wished he were different, that she wanted to change him back, that she was embarrassed and ashamed and just wanted to cover it all up so she didn't have to be that poor girl whose boyfriend got bitten by a werewolf anymore and they could all go back to be happy go lucky kids with no real problems except test scores and laziness.

He let himself believe that she had done it all for her own benefit, because as long as he thought that, he couldn't admit to himself that the things Caiti did bothered him because as much as she thought differently, he could never come close to showing her how much he cared, he could never match her gestures.

The thing was, his act of valor had been a split second's decision. He hadn't planned it. He hadn't spent months meticulously working on something specifically designed to make her life better. All he had done was jump in front of a werewolf in a moment of blind panic. And he hadn't even known he was going to do it until it was already happening. It had been fear that drove him to act, not love.

The way Caiti loved him was scary. It was scarier than that wolf had been that night. The lengths to which she went because she cared about him were something Marlowe could never hope to match. He couldn't even think where to begin.

So every time she showed him just how much he mattered to her, he reacted by pushing her away, by pretending it didn't mean more to him than he had words to say.

Marlowe realized he had accidentally let himself think about all the things he'd been trying to use his anger to avoid and now he just felt sick.

She had forgiven him once. This time, she might not.

Not too long after, his body began to shake, just enough to notice at first, then uncontrollably. Marlowe usually tried not to focus on the pain, tried to think about other things, but tonight, he dwelled on it, because he deserved to feel this way after the way he'd acted.