Evelyn had finally gotten to the point where she knew the names of ninety percent of the kids that usually came to story time or the other library events on any given day. There were always a few unfamiliar faces or familiar faces that usually showed up on a different day, but in general, they had a fairly steady group that came week after week. The Tuesday-regulars were her favorite group. They were mostly five and six year olds, all homeschooled by their parents or a nanny, and they knew each other so they interacted like a class.

When Evelyn sat down to read to them, she felt like a teacher.

She had just finished reading a book called Little Witch Loves Autumn from a series of books about a precocious little girl called Little Witch. Most of the kids were walking around with their parents picking out books to check out for the week. Evelyn was standing by the circulation desk at the front of the children's section, watching Margaret walk around to confer with the kids and help them find something of interest.

Margaret, she'd realized, was really good at her job. The kids absolutely loved her. She made them laugh, she kept them on task and listening, and they all ran straight to her for a hug when they arrived. Evelyn loved watching her interact with them. She had learned a lot from observing the way Margaret introduced a text or the way she stopped and questioned kids throughout the story. She did so much more than read the words.

Even more impressive was the way she knew the contents of the children's library. There were thousands of books and Margaret was always able to find just the right fit for each child that came in. She was able to match kids with a book they could read on their own successfully, a book they wouldn't be able to put down, a book they would find interesting.

In the rare occasion someone asked for something and she didn't have a specific book in mind right off the bat, she was able to locate something within only a couple of minutes.

Evelyn had never quite realized how much went into being a librarian.

She tore her eyes away from Margaret who was giggling over a book she had just pulled with a little girl named Livvi, because a boy named Matthias was heading her way now with a stack of seven or eight books in his arms. Evelyn thought he was especially sweet. He had a very scholarly attitude for a child. He spoke very clearly and directly and was not at all shy around adults. His glasses certainly fit his persona.

His forehead was level with the counter, but he still insisted on passing the books to Evelyn himself.

"What've we got today?" she asked.

"Books about dragons," he said, standing on tiptoe to see her better.

"Ooh, that sounds very exciting. I'm not sure if I'd like to meet a dragon. Would you?" Evelyn tapped the code on each with her wand to check them in and the titles appeared in the log book in blue ink.

"I would," he said. "Some dragons might be nice dragons, but you'd have to meet them first to know."

"Ah, you're right about that. It's always good to give someone a chance." When she'd scanned in the last book, Matthias passed over his library card. Evelyn tapped it once and his name and card number appeared in the log book beside each of the titles he'd checked out.

"Well," said Evelyn sliding the books across to him, "Will we see you again next Tuesday?"

"Every Tuesday, Miss Evelyn. You should know that by now," he said, shaking his head at her.

She smiled. "You're right, I'm being silly. Looking forward to seeing you again. You'll have to tell me what you think of those books, alright?"

"I will," he said with a purposeful nod.

"What do you-" his mother started to say, but he swatted at her hand.

"I'm getting to that Mummy," he said. He turned back to Evelyn. "Thank you very much for reading to us and for the books."

"You are very welcome, sir," she said with a smile.

She looked back at Margaret and found that she was watching Evelyn. She smiled at her and Evelyn thought that maybe she could be really good at this job, too.

—-

After work, Margaret and Evelyn changed their clothes in the bathroom and headed outside to run. They had an established route through Battersea Park and they'd worked up to two miles (neither of them had much running experience).

They'd just finished and had slowed to a walk to cool down. It was starting to get chillier in the evenings. "We might have to switch to yoga or something in the next couple weeks," said Margaret, dancing up and down on the spot while they let a mum with a strolled pass at a crossroads in the path.

"Yeah," Evelyn agreed. "I don't like the cold much."

They walked in silence for a few minutes while they caught their breath and Evelyn thought about how easily Margaret interacted with the kids, how knowledgeable she was about reading.

"Is this what you always wanted to do?" she asked.

"Run?"

"Your job."

"Oh," she said. "Sorry, my brain stops working when it's cold." She paused and thought. "I don't know. I guess I always knew I wanted to work with kids. I just sort of happened into this job and it fit."

"Same," said Evelyn. She smiled a little. Margaret laughed.

"What about you? Did you have something in mind?"

"I've sort of always wanted to be a teacher," she said. "Primary school. But that doesn't really exist in our world. I always thought that was kind of strange."

They made a right on the path towards a section of trees with brightly colored yellow leaves. Evelyn loved this time of year. Her nose was a little runny and she felt clammy where she'd sweat during their run, but the brisk air felt nice, too. The sun was beginning to set and shone through the leaves making them glow gold. She had to squint, but it warmed her up when it hit her face.

"It does feel like a bit of a gap," said Margaret. "I know a lot of the parents that bring their kids regularly do it because they're trying to teach them to read and they don't really know how. It's hard to explain to someone what all is going on when a kid looks at words and what's developmentally appropriate for them to tackle. Parents just don't know where to start."

"You're amazing with them," said Evelyn. "Honestly. It's so cool to watch you."

Margaret laugh a little. She reached back to tighten her ponytail. Her curls bounced when she walked. "I've learned a lot," she said. "But there's still a lot I don't know."

"Part of me wants to apply for a muggle education program," Evelyn said. "But I don't know how I'd get into uni with a diploma from Hogwarts."

"I bet if you sent an owl to the headmaster he'd figure something out for you. You're muggleborn. You could do it. I would..." She shook her head. "I would keep accidentally talking about magic."

"I could help you," said Evelyn.

"We should do it," said Maraget. "Get an education degree, start our own school."

Evelyn grinned. "We should. What would we call it?"

And though they had only planned to walk for twenty or so minutes before they headed home, they ended up staying out till the sun had gone completely down and the streetlights came on, making plans for their imaginary school. Evelyn knew they were just joking around, but when she got home that night, she couldn't stop smiling and she couldn't stop thinking about it, because what if they did?

She lay awake for hours after she and Sean got in bed, head spinning with ideas. It was far-fetched and highly improbable, but it wasn't impossible. She clung to that thought, because for the first time since she'd graduated, she felt a sense of purpose.

—-

Caiti showed up at about five thirty on Saturday evening. Marlowe was laying on the couch in the living room waiting for her. He heaved himself up to seated when he heard the telltale roar of the fireplace. Caiti stepped out and brushed herself off.

"Hey," he smiled.

"Hey," Caiti smiled back.

She came and sat on the couch next to him and Marlowe kissed her. "Gotta get that in now so you don't have to taste the remnants of this concoction," he said. He kissed her one more time for good measure and then took the potion from her hand, uncapped it and downed the whole thing in one go.

It was awful, as always, but he was getting used to it. He grabbed the glass of water he'd gotten ready and downed that, too, and then he sat back against the couch cushions and put his arm around the back. Caiti sunk back next to him, and he dropped his arm a few inches to rest over her shoulders.

"Your mum's not here?" she asked.

"Just left," said Marlowe. "Dragged my dad to a birthday party for one of her friends. She wouldn't let him bring his wand and he freaked out because he doesn't trust cars, but she doesn't trust him not to accidentally blow something up, so," he shrugged.

Caiti laughed. "Does he blow things up often?"

"No, but apparently he used to. Every time I've ever met his old school friends, they tease him about it."

Caiti settled into his shoulder. "It's weird to picture our parents in school," she said. "I always feel like they were born in their thirties."

"Someday we'll have kids that think that about us," said Marlowe. He wrinkled his nose. "Perpetually thirty five. Gross."

Out the corner of his eye, Marlowe noticed Caiti's face turn very pink. He smiled a little bit, but kept his eyes trained ahead of him so he wouldn't embarrass her. They had never actually alluded to anything that far in the future before. He certainly didn't see himself breaking up with her. He hoped they never would. But still. It was weird to imagine it, being married to her, having kids, living together. It seemed so far away, so implausible that they would ever be that age.

"Better than perpetually twelve," she said..

He laughed. "True. Speaking of twelve-year olds, is Elliot still being a little show-off?"

"He's simmered down a little," Caiti laughed. "Ravenclaw's got their first game next weekend and I think he realized he positioned himself to fill some big shoes, and now he's got a lot to live up to."

"You're going right? To the match?"

"Yeah," she said. "It's gonna be weird though, not watching you."

"You've seen enough of me," said Marlowe waving his hand. "Elliot's up and coming."

They fell quiet. Marlowe brushed his thumb over Caiti's shoulder. It was nice having her here. It made him feel normal.

"So I should tell you," he said after a minute. He stopped and swallowed. "I really wanted to, but I can't come next weekend. We've got a match and it's stupid because I won't even be playing, obviously, but I still have to be there. But I asked Evelyn and she said she'd be able to go if you wanted her to and-"

Caiti looked at him and Marlowe stopped talking at once. Her face was very still.

"You don't look surprised," he said.

"I'm not." She shrugged. "I sort of assumed because you hadn't said anything earlier. It's fine."

This only made Marlowe feel worse. "It's not fine though. I really wanted to come. I wanted to see you. And your birthday is the next day."

"Marlowe, it's not a big deal. It's just Hogmseade," said Caiti. "Maybe you'll be able to come to another one sometime."

She turned her head back and looked up at the ceiling.

"Maybe," he said. "It still sucks though."

Caiti tipped her head onto his shoulder and put her hand on his knee.

"Everything sucks right now," she said. Marlowe thought he heard a slight change in her voice, a little tightness. Sure enough, when he shifted to get a better look at her, her eyes were wet.

"Hey," he said, straightening up. He reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I'm so sorry, Caiti. I shouldn't have waited to tell you. Maybe I could... maybe I could take a sick day or-"

"Don't do that," said Caiti, looking away from him. She flicked her eyes up to the ceiling and tried to blink the tears out of her eyes before they could spill over. "I expected that. It's not about you not coming."

"Then what is it?"

She shook her head, sighed through her nose, and said, "It's just that this is almost worse. Getting to see you every month. I build it up and then I get to see you, but it's for an hour, and then I have to leave again. And it just..." She paused and shrugged again. "It just sucks. 'Cause I really miss you. And Hogwarts doesn't feel like it used to."

Marlowe glanced at the clock. He hated that there was a deadline on how long he could spend with her. He didn't want to send her back to the castle still crying, but he certainly wasn't going to push his timeline and risk transforming with her there. Potion or no potion, that wasn't a risk he was willing to take.

"I know," he said, pulling her into a hug. "I don't like it either."

Caiti smoothed her hand down his back. Marlowe shut his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. He was starting to feel buzzy all over the way he did not long before everything started. He hated how he knew that now, how it was almost normal the way things happened just the same every time. He hated that he could predict it, that none of it surprised him.

"I don't want to be sad while you're here, though," he said. "I have to make up for the fact that this year is the first time you would have said yes to the mandatory birthday kiss I've been telling you about since you turned twelve, and I have to make up for the fact that we'll be separated by a large quantity of enchantments far beyond my skill level."

Caiti pulled back a little, her lips twisting into a smile. There were still tears hovering on her eyelashes, but her face had brightened.

"I think you need eighteen kisses for eighteen years," he said.

Caiti wrinkled her nose. "Now you're gonna have that nasty potion taste in your mouth."

Marlowe waved a hand. "I drank water," he said. "And anway, it's mandatory. And you made the nasty potion."

They just looked at each other. Marlowe waited for Caiti to make some retort back, but all she said was, "Well are you gonna kiss me or what?"

He laughed. "Sometimes it still surprises me that-" he started to say, but he stopped, shook his head, and then leaned in to kiss her. Each time he pulled back he counted up one number but at seventeen, Caitii, laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes again, put her hand out to stop him.

She took a minute to compose herself, and then said through her giggles, "Save that one for when I'm actually eighteen."

"I had a whole big finish planned though," Marlowe protested. "You should've warned me ahead of time."

Caiti took a couple deep breaths to calm herself and then she started to lean toward him again. "This one's just for today," she said, and she put her hand on his cheek and kissed him one more time.

It made Marlowe's stomach do some impressive gymnastics.

—-

Back at the castle, Caiti stopped briefly by the great hall to catch the last of dinner, and then she walked herself slowly up to Ravenclaw tower. Her mind was spinning about something but she hadn't consciously caught up to what it was cooking up yet. She stood outside the door to the common room for several minutes without lifting the knocker.

Marlowe had been in a good mood today, a better mood than she'd seen him on a full moon night so far. He had seemed tired, and she had been aware of the fact that he winced sometimes when he moved, but he had seemed like himself. Not just a shell.

What Caiti didn't know was how much of that was a show for her benefit.

She heard footsteps coming down the hall behind her and then Theo's voice called, "Hey, Caiti."

"Oh," she said and turned towards him. "Hi."

"Stuck on a question?" he asked.

Caiti gave a little shake of her head. She still felt distant. She couldn't quite focus on the details of Theo's face. "I didn't knock yet."

He frowned. "Any reason?"

"No," she said. "I was just thinking."

He hesitated then said, "Okay," and took a steps past her towards the door. He reached up for the knocked, glanced back at her, and then lifted it and let it clunk back against the door. Caiti didn't even listen to the question, just followed Theo inside after he'd answered it, muttered a distant thank you, and headed up the stairs to her room.

Before she quite knew what she was doing, she found herself getting out a quill and a spare bit of parchment and it was then that she finally caught up to her own idea. Marlowe would not be in Hogsmeade next weekend. And that had given her an idea.

Caiti uncapped her ink bottle, dipped her quill in and wrote "Dear Mr. Belby" at the top of the page.