Caiti had been working with Alora more in the last week than she had in the entirety of the time she'd known her. She had been a huge help in calming Caiti's nerves, had actually come by the greenhouse twice to work through some things with her. They had tried mixing the two potions together just to see what would happen and although the resulting scent and color was unpleasant at best, it hadn't done anything terribly concerning like congeal or create toxic gasses.

Caiti was still busy doing all sorts of reading and research about the ingredients in each to try to discern whether they would really be safe to take together, but she was feeling at least a little more hopeful that it wouldn't kill anyone. She just wasn't totally confident they would work at the same time.

Marlowe kept insisting that they test both and she knew that he was sort of dreading experiencing a "regular" full moon with only the wolfsbane potion, especially now that quidditch season was starting. He really had been in much better shape after the trial, had not complained really at all about joint pain or achiness, which was not at all the case when he did transform. But Caiti hadn't felt like to try it this month gave her enough time

She had so many more questions to work through. So many things she wanted to try.

And at the same time all this was going on, today was the first day of her new job at the apothecary. It was only part time, and she knew she was more than capable of her job requirements, but she still felt a little nervous walking up to the storefront. She had never actually had a job. Brewing the wolfsbane potion once a month didn't really count. She had never had a job where she went each day, had a routine, had coworkers to contend with.

"Good morning," she said when she stepped into the quiet shop, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

"Good morning," said the shop owner with a smile. His name was Bertrand and he didn't say much, but had always been pleasant enough when Caiti had come in as a customer.

He showed her the back room now, pointing out where all the ingredients she might need were, said when she came in each morning, she was to brew potions to sell first, after which time, she could sit out in the main shop preparing ingredients and helping anyone who came through to find what they were looking for.

And with that very brief onboarding, he headed back out to the counter leaving Caiti alone in the cluttered back room.

She took a deep breath, then got to work following the instructions written for her about what potions they were low on and how much to brew.

Every so often she would hear a customer come through, but otherwise the shop was so, so quiet. Caiti sat in the back, trying not to make too much noise, feeling like she couldn't disturb anyone by chopping loudly or clattering the wooden spoon against the edges of the cauldron. It was a very strange feeling.

Morso when Bertrand would stop back to check how she was doing.

Caiti had not felt so self-conscious brewing a potion since first year, before she'd realized she was any good at it.

Still, she tried to do her absolute best, to take pride in her work, and her first potion came out just as she'd hoped. Feeling a little better upon seeing Bertrand's quiet nod of approval, Caiti set to work on another.

About two and a half hours later, she had finished what was on the list, and she cautiously stepped back out to the front.

"All finished?" he asked.

She nodded. "I bottled everything and left it on the counter, but I can put it somewhere else."

"That's just fine," he said. "I'll need to label it for sale. Why don't you stay out here for a bit. There are a bunch of billiwig stings here that need powdering. Just come get me if anyone wants to buy. I'll show you how to use the register."

And then he was gone again and Caiti was back to standing there alone.

She knew first days were supposed to be a little awkward, that things would get easier with time when she knew what she was doing and had settled into a routine, but for now, she couldn't decide how she felt about the job. It wasn't difficult. She liked brewing potions. It was just that pervasive quiet. It made her feel edgy.

No one came in for the first quarter of an hour that she stood out there, but eventually, a small elderly witch shuffled in, her pointed hat crumpled and askew from the wind outside. It was a very blustery day, almost fall-like although it was March.

"Welcome in," Caiti said quietly and the witch smiled at her. Caiti went back to working on the billiwig stings, glancing up every so often. The woman seemed to be looking for something in particular.

"Can I help you find anything?" she asked after a few minutes.

"Oh," said the old woman putting her hands on her hips. "I don't know just what I need. I'm trying to make a calming draught, but the one I've always done isn't doing the trick anymore."

"Have you tried peppermint?" asked Caiti at once. This was her own addition, not something she had learned from a textbook, but it had always worked well for her.

The woman looked at her in surprise. "Peppermint? Really?"

Caiti nodded. She put down her tools and brushed her hands off on the apron she was wearing, coming around the other side of the counter. "What do you usually put in yours?" Caiti asked.

The woman rattled off a list of pretty standard ingredients, though it didn't seem to be precisely the same recipe Caiti used. "It seems similar to mine," Caiti said. "You could try switching out the mortlap for dittany. I use about an ounce, finely chopped. And then after it's finished brewing, I just add in a few shavings of peppermint, just enough that it turns light blue. It's always worked well for me."

The lady laughed, not unkindly, like Caiti's use of "always" was humorous to her. "Well, I daresay I've brewed a few more potions than you at my age, but I'm not opposed to trying to something a bit different."

So Caiti helped her collect all the ingredients she needed and then went to find Bertrand to help her ring the woman up.

Caiti didn't work the following day, but when she was back at the shop later that week, Bertrand came into the back room and sat across from her at the table where she was working. "The woman you helped the other day," he said. "She came back yesterday to find you. Said what you told her worked wonders."

"Oh," Caiti said in surprise. "Oh, good. I'm glad it worked."

Bertrand smiled.

"You keep it up, I may do some restructuring. See if there's a way to get you working out in front of the customers the whole while you're here. She's already asked for your hours, said she'll tell her friends to come in when you're working if they need help."

Caiti smiled, feeling a little glow spread inside her.

Bertrand smiled back and got up without another word.

—-

The full moon seemed especially brutal on Marlowe's body that month. After not transforming in February, his joints ached worse than ever in the morning. He left the little shed as soon as he could the next morning, curling up next to Caiti in his bed with his face down in the pillow. Even the very low light of the late-winter dawn was giving him a shooting headache.

Caiti had been fast asleep, but she stirred when the mattress moved and after a minute, he felt her hand in his hair, so gentle.

"How do you feel?" she asked softly. He could only shake his head slowly.

"I made you some of that potion that usually helps," she said. "If you want to take that."

"In a little," he mumbled. She stopped talking after that, just rubbed his back.

He could sense how hard she was thinking, troubleshooting.

"Next month I want to try both," he said after they had been quiet for some time. He had brought this up to her many times now and while she never outright said no, she always seemed hesitant. "'Cause this sucks."

"I know," she said softly. "I'll send an owl today. See if we can do next month. I don't want to test it unsupervised." She had gone back to the research facility to interview the other participants a few days prior and he'd hoped she would set something up with them then, but she hadn't. This promise was a big step forward though.

He didn't want to open his eyes yet, but he lifted a hand, found hers, still on his back, and clasped it. "Thank you," he said.

Caiti pulled their hands up between their faces. She pressed her lips to the back of his hand.

—-

Later that day, doing his best to act like he didn't feel like he'd just been sewn back together, Marlowe headed into Benson's office for his pre-season individual meeting. He had purposely scheduled it for today knowing it would give him at least a half an hour off the field, maybe longer if he got Benson talking.

He wasn't expecting too much beyond a list of technical goals for him to work on throughout the season based on what the coaches and trainers had seen during the pre-season. That was what had happened at this meeting last year.

"Mr. Finnegan, take a seat," Benson said, and Marlowe gratefully sank into a chair opposite the manager.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Peachy," said Marlow darkly.

Benson laughed. "You look awful."

Marlowe couldn't even be mad. He had seen the bags under his eyes that morning.

"I'm trying to work through it," Marlowe said. "This month was particularly bad."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Benson said. He considered Marlowe for a few moments.

"Tell me," he said. "How do you feel your performance has been this season so far?"

Marlowe's heart started thudding. He hated questions like this. They always felt like a trap. If you said you were doing great and you weren't, you came across as cocky and overconfident, maybe even careless. If you downplayed what you'd been doing, you looked like you didn't have enough faith in yourself, and trusting yourself in a sport like quidditch was essential.

"I don't know," Marlowe said. "I've been working really hard. I did a lot on my own over the winter to try to keep up my strength and my skills and everything. I think I've made a lot of improvement since this time last year."

Benson nodded slowly. Marlowe wished he would just say something, but it took a while for him to answer.

"You're looking good," he said finally. "You're looking sharp."

He clasped his hands on the desk, looked down at this fingers. "Listen. Finnegan. I know and everyone else knows you've only got a year left on this contract and then you're a free agent. I know we aren't paying you what another team probably could, what with our ticket sales down and our rankings in the toilet for about the fiftieth season running. I know you've got a lot more talent and potential that another team would love to have and you're probably going to get offers this year. You are. There will be teams wanting to snatch you up. I know that. I'm not offended by it. It's the nature of the sport.

"I intend to give you as much play time as I can this season. Let people see you. Let you test your strengths. Even if it's just a few minutes a match, I'll try to sub you in at some point, because you're right there. You're ready. And at the end of the season, if that means that ten teams are vying for you to join them and you want to leave and go, I'll rest easy knowing a good kid's got a solid offer and that we helped train him up. But I want you to know, too, that we'd love to keep you. This is strictly confidential... he's only told management at this point, but I'll let you in on it, because I want you to see what's possible... Eddie Walters is retiring at the end of the season. He's going to take a stab at sports broafcasting. Have more time at home with his family. You keep up how you've been performing, and you'd be a shoe in for that starter spot if you stayed."

If Marlowe had thought his heart was pounding before, it was nothing compared to what he felt now.

"I want to stay," he said at once. "I don't need to make more money than I do already."

Benson smiled a little sadly. "You say that, but when a big offer comes at you, it may be difficult to turn down. I know how it goes. I wouldn't hold it against you."

Marlowe shook his head. "No, I'm serious. I used to think I'd leave if I got the chance, but I don't want to anymore. You gave me a shot when no one else would. You looked past what everyone else wouldn't look past. This was the only team that would consider me. And if people change their minds now, great. Because that will help people like me in the future. But it's too late for me. They already made an impression, and I'm willing to forgive them, but I don't want to work for them."

Benson smiled a little more. "Finnegan," he said. "You want this, we'll put everything we've got into getting you there. You've got what it takes."

"I want it," Marlowe said with a nod. He was impressed by how confident he sounded.

Benson reached across the table and held out his hand. Marlowe gave it a firm shake.

He felt a little more alive than he had earlier that morning. He felt like he'd just been given the burst he needed to push through, though maybe it was Caiti's potion kicking in.

—-

That evening when he left, Marlowe was sore and exhausted from pushing himself but in that way that felt satisfying, like if just laid down, he would relax right into the bed. He went to find Caiti straight from the field, too eager to tell her about his meeting to wait.

It was pouring rain at the greenhouse. He was glad he'd apparated straight inside. Heavy raindrops pounded against the glass. He knocked on the wall beside the doorway to the office, expecting Caiti to be in there, but when he poked his head in, the room was empty. He turned back into the greenhouse with a frown. He had been so certain she'd be here, but maybe he'd confused her work schedule. He hadn't gotten it down yet, what days she worked and what days she didn't.

He was just about to go check her house when he spotted her outside, sitting in front of the greenhouse, her knees to her chest, positively soaked by the rain.

He opened the door, standing back so he wouldn't get wet, though the raindrops still splashed in at him. "What are you doing out here?" he asked. He had to raise his voice over the rain.

Caiti turned to look at him. He'd half expected to see her crying, but she looked surprisingly calm.

"Clearing my head," she said, and then turned away again.

"Aren't you freezing?"

Caiti shook her head.

"It's therapeutic," she said.

Still confused, Marlowe stepped outside and sat on the ground beside her. Caiti repositioned herself to cross-legged, face downcast, but spine straight.

They didn't talk. Marlowe found he almost forgot what he'd come to tell her. She was right. After only a minute of sitting there, rain splattering against his robes, seeping through the fabric to his skin, dripping off his hair and down his cheeks... he felt cleansed. Like an inside out cleansing. A renewal.

Caiti reached for his hand after a minute, and when she took a deep breath next to him, Marlowe found himself taking one, too.

The last few weeks had been so turbulent. Caiti had been so emotional, switching from pleasant one moment to distant the next. Marlowe didn't know what had possessed her to come out here, but he was glad she had.

They sat in total silence for at least ten minutes, hands held, both of them soaked to the skin, and then Caiti turned to him out of the blue, blinking against the downpour, water dripping off her eyelashes, and said, "Kiss me."

Marlowe did not need to be asked twice. He put his hand on the side of her neck, pushing back the wet hair sticking to her skin, and he kissed her. Pretty soon, they were standing up, pulling each other back inside, peeling off wet clothes, falling back on the couch without even opening up the sofa bed. Nothing was communicated out loud, but Marlowe knew without question that they were on the same page.

Caiti shivered with cold, but when Marlowe kissed her again the tremor in her hands seemed to steady.

The rain pounded on the roof above them, the room cast in a dim glow, that kind of greenish gray light that filters through clouds.

Caiti's arms wrapped around his back and he felt her start to smile.

—-

It was nearly dinner time now. They had never had sex except at night and Caiti found she didn't quite know what to do now. How did you just go about your life after something like that? How did you just get up and think about eating?

But they hadn't gotten up yet. They lay on the couch, Caiti curled up in his arms. They'd dressed partway, drying their clothes by magic, but her hair was still damp. Marlowe's skin was warm and he'd pulled a blanket over their legs. He drew his fingers up and down her back, under her t-shirt. It was impossibly cozy.

"Guess what?" Marlowe asked.

"What?" she asked softly. It was always hard for her to muster up the energy to speak when Marlowe's hand was on her skin like this. She felt so relaxed.

"I had a meeting with Benson this morning." Marlowe paused, but she could sense he didn't need prompting to go on, was just collecting his words first. "About next year and stuff."

"Cause your contract will be up?"

"Yeah," he said. "He was saying how probably a lot of other teams will try to send offers and that he'd try and give me bits of play time every game if he can to give people a chance to see me, but I said I didn't want to switch teams."

"Really?" Caiti asked.

"Yeah," Marlowe said again. "I'm happy where I'm at. I don't really need more money than what I already make and it would be a raise regardless, getting off a reserve contract. And so I said I wanted to stay and he said he'd understand if I don't, but that probably I'd take over the starter position because Eddie is planning on retiring from playing at the end of the season."

He said this all in a tone like he was really trying to sound casual, but Caiti could sense how eager he had been to say all this. She lifted her head and looked at him incredulously. "Why exactly am I just now hearing about this?" she asked. "You've been here almost two hours."

"Well I was planning to tell you right away, but then you were sitting out there in the rain like the picture of depression and I got a little sidetracked."

Caiti laughed. She kissed him. "That's so cool," she said. "I'm so happy for you."

He started to smile, too. "I don't want to jinx it," he said.

"How would you do that?" She sat up, Marlowe following suit, and angled herself towards him.

"I don't know. Talking about it too much. Thinking it's a done deal when really it's contingent on how I do the rest of this season and Eddie actually deciding to leave for sure."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Marlowe grimaced, but his eyes were all bright.

"He said he's going to give you more play time?"

Marlowe nodded. "A few minutes every match if he can."

"Then I have to come to every match," Caiti said.

She could have sworn his cheeks went the tiniest bit pink.

For a minute, they just smiled at each other — Marlowe trying hard not to seem too excited even though he clearly was, Caiti just bursting with pride — and then she leaned forward and hugged him tight thinking about the twelve year old Marlowe she had first known and how he had assured her after his very first every quidditch match that he would be a professional quidditch player some day. She remembered how Evelyn and even Sean had laughed at this, but Caiti never had.

She'd looked at him, dead serious, and said, "Just don't forget about me when you're famous" and Marlowe had given her a cheeky grin and said, "Never. 'Cause when I'm famous, I bet I won't have to beg you to kiss me. You'll be lining up to get the chance."

And then she'd walked away all huffy, but really she'd been sort of pleased by the attention. Even more so when he'd run to catch up to her, looping an arm over her shoulders and saying, "You know I'm only kidding. I'll probably never make it anyway."

She hugged him a little closer now, wondering if he remembered this, if he had known then that Caiti really believed him when he said he'd do this, even if he hadn't really believed himself yet.