Marlowe went back to the lot the very next morning, a quill and parchment stowed in his pocket. He scribbled down the phone number on the for sale sign, tucked it back in his pocket, and then anxiously awaited the end of the work day so he could bug his mum to help him make a call about buying it. Actually, he'd probably have to get his dad involved too. There were all sorts of hoops to jump through when buying muggle owned property and he didn't know any of what there was to know, but his dad did.

When Caiti came over after her shift at the apothecary was over — she worked till close once a week — the three of them were sitting on the couch huddled around his mum's cell phone.

He let Caiti in the front door, plucked her wand out of her pocket and set it on the edge of a console table to the left of the door, then ushered her over to the phone, with a finger pressed to his lips.

Caiti listened with a frown on her face until it became apparent what the conversation was about and then she looked up at him and he just nodded. He couldn't contain his excitement. He hadn't been able to think about anything else all day.

The full moon was literally a day away now and it was actually back of mind, a so far unprecedented occurrence. Usually he couldn't help but think about it.

He took Caiti's hand, holding on tight for the rest of the phone call and when his mum finally hung up, he let out the biggest breath he hadn't even known he was holding in.

"Thank you," he said to his parents, his dad in particular. He patted Marlowe on the back.

He picked up the parchment he'd written the phone number on that morning, now with a list of steps to take, some detailed by the person on the phone, some added by his dad.

He would get to work on this tomorrow. It'd keep his mind off the full moon, give him something positive to think about that night, holed up in his little shed.

His mum announced she was going to go start dinner and his dad left the room to freshen up, leaving Marlowe and Caiti alone on the living room floor. He looked at her. She had this funny little smile on her face.

"What?"

"You're just cute," she shrugged, still smiling. "You're so excited."

"Well, aren't you?"

Caiti nodded. She smiled a little bigger, leaned in to kiss him. "Yeah, I am," she said. "I really am."

—

The house was so quiet when Marlowe came back in that Caiti woke up instantly, before he'd even made it to the bedroom. She'd stayed in his room so she'd be there when he woke up, already had a potion waiting for him on the bedside table to help with the aches, and she sat up now, waiting for him to come in.

"I didn't want to wake you up," Marlowe said softly, shutting the door behind him. She thought his voice sounded a little thick.

"It's okay," she said, blinking into the dark. Her eyes still hadn't quite adjusted. "I've got something for you there if you need it."

Usually he would wait a while before he took anything, but he just nodded and drank it down. He laid down, back to her.

"Do you need anything?" Caiti asked.

He shook his head, but said nothing.

Hesitantly, Caiti lay back down, propped her head in her hand and ran her fingers through his hair. She laid her hand on the back of his neck. His skin was hot to the touch. Still, he shivered a little at the feeling of her fingers.

Caiti started to worry a little. He hadn't been quite this sorry for himself in a while now, but then there had been a number of unusual full moons in a row — two clinical tests, one with dramatic results, one with promising results, plus the whole pregnancy scare.

"Does it..." Caiti started to say. "Does it feel much worse? After last month?"

He nodded just a little.

"Oh Marlowe..." she said softly. "I'm really sorry." He said nothing. "I'll see if I can get more trials set up," she said.

"Don't," Marlowe told her. "Don't waste your funding. I'm fine."

Caiti sighed.

"I'm fine," he said again.

She lay on her back, took a deep breath.

Marlowe rolled over, put his head on her chest and lay very still.

She put her arms around him.

"I just want to feel sorry for myself until this potion kicks in, and then I'm good, okay? It's fine. I've handled it like this plenty of times before."

Caiti smoothed her hand down his back, held on a little tighter.

"Okay," she said softly.

He fell asleep soon after that, or she was pretty sure he did anyway, but Caiti lay awake, thinking hard.

—-

Caiti's potion did help, for a time, and truthfully, he'd have been happy for another dose the following day, but he didn't want to worry her. He'd already made her feel guilty enough, he could tell, and he felt bad about it.

Still, he would have liked something to numb the aching in his joints and still the shake in his hands. It had only been two months of reprieve from transforming and already his body had begun to forget how this went, the days before and after, the constant awareness of what he'd undergone.

It was like going back to the first few times, when he'd only had a limited understanding of what to expect, when it had still been a shock to his system. He remembered especially those last few months at school, trying so hard to pretend it wasn't bothering him, walking around the school all pale and shaky but too embarrassed to admit it.

They were hard months to think about. He had been so lonely in it, still, afraid to talk about it, afraid to even admit it to himself, let alone Caiti or anyone else.

He was still in this headspace when he arrived at the field for that day's match, and while flying certainly helped to clear his head, he couldn't quite shake that cold, isolated feeling he'd carried around those months.

"You okay?" McSorley asked him in a low voice as they were all heading out of the locker room.

"Yeah," Marlowe said, but didn't elaborate. McSorley continued to watch him with subtle concern, but he didn't push.

For the first hour of the match, Marlowe sat with his team, clapped along with them at good saves and successful attempts at the goal, but he felt disengaged from it all. He kept trying to snap himself out of it, to be present, but he kept slipping back into that bubble.

When Benson told him he was going in, Marlowe could only nod.

He tried hard to force his brain to focus on the game, to feel like he was in it, not just near it, but it was hard. Up on his broom, he was more aware of the way his muscles felt a little more lethargic than usual and the way his joints ached each time he moved to maneuver the broom.

The noise of the crowd sounded distant, like he was in a bubble. He knew it was there, but it didn't sound as pervasive as usual. He didn't feel it thrumming inside his chest.

He took several deep breaths to focus himself, zeroed in on the bludger, and tried to focus on what was happening to see how he might help. The first few times he made a pass at the bludger, it went okay. His swings weren't as strong as usual, but they did the trick.

But then a bludger veered into his path at the same time he saw Sutton lean forward in pursuit of the snitch. Marlowe didn't have much time to decide whether to send the bludger away from the action or in the direction of Sutton, not to hit him obviously, but to curtail the opposing seeker who was now rapidly gaining on him. He hit the bludger before he'd really decided, missing the wide part of his bat and tipping it off the edge which sent the bludger spiraling and curving more than he'd intended.

It missed the other seeker entirely, but Sutton had to swerve to avoid it, and in that time, the snitch disappeared from sight, both seekers falling back. Sutton swore loudly. Marlowe could hear it clear across the field. He just sort of froze, hung there in midair, not quite sure what had all just happened.

He had never messed up like that in a game before. Not even at school. Not that obviously.

The whistle blew for a timeout, and Benson just said, "Walters, you're back in. Shake it off Finnegan," and Marlowe had to go back and sit there with his team in complete and utter shame.

They'd have won, had Sutton gotten the snitch. It'd have been their first win all season.

—-

Things did not look up for Marlowe's mental state over the next week and a half. Three matches in a row, he fumbled something, to the point where Caiti, who really only barely understood quidditch, was beginning to be able to see the mistakes coming. She was really starting to worry about him. He seemed to be internalizing the mistakes, and instead of coming back stronger the next time, he would doom himself to do it all again.

Still, the manager kept putting him in.

The fourth time something went wrong, she waited so long for him to come out from the locker rooms after the match that she thought he must have gone straight home without even coming to find her. There were only a handful of people still lingering about and the security wizards standing outside the players area had both tuned out, chatting to one another. She was about to head to his house to check if he'd left when Marlowe's friend Brian McSorley exited the locker rooms and caught sight of her.

"Hey," he called, and jogged towards her. "She can come through, it's fine," he said to the guards, who stepped aside for Caiti to come past the gate.

"Is he okay?" she asked nervously.

"He's the only one still in there," McSorely said. "I tried to talk to him, but he won't say anything. Maybe you can."

She glanced at the door to the locker room. She'd never been inside.

"It's fine, just go in. No one else is in there," he repeated.

"Thanks," she said. "For talking to him."

He only nodded. He looked genuinely concerned.

Feeling a little nervous, Caiti stepped inside. Marlowe sat on a bench, his hands clasped in his lap, eyes down on his knees. He hadn't even taken his team robes off yet.

"Hi," she said softly, taking a seat opposite him. The benches were close together and their knees touched.

He didn't say anything.

Caiti reached out and took his hands. She held one in each of hers, took a deep breath and just said, "Every time I've tried to shut down on myself when things didn't work how I thought, you were the one who reminded me that it was just something I could learn from. If I'd given up the first time something went wrong, I wouldn't have figured out almost all of what I have at this point."

Slowly, Marlowe's eyes lifted to hers.

"You're not perfect," she said. "But no one's expecting you to be except yourself."

They just looked at each other for a long time. His eyes were locked on hers and his face was so still.

"I think I blew my chance," he said finally.

"I don't think so," Caiti said.

Marlowe looked away from her with an expression like of course she would say that. She was biased.

But Caiti really didn't think so.

"He keeps putting you in," Caiti said. "I think he's trying to give you a chance to get past your mental block and prove to yourself you can do it. He hasn't given up on you or you wouldn't have been playing past the second time."

Marlowe's fingers gripped hers a little tighter and he looked up. There was a very slight glassiness to his eyes. She smoothed her thumbs over the backs of his hands.

"All you have to do is show him you haven't given up on yourself. Coaches have to know mistakes are something you can learn from. They're like teachers. Their job is to help you get better. But you've got to be willing to learn, too."

He was quiet for a really long time. Caiti didn't feel like saying anything else would be helpful. It wasn't some elaborate pep talk he needed.

He needed someone calm with a bit of good sense, the same thing she had sometimes needed when she'd become overwhelmed or frustrated. She knew how he felt.

Eventually, he gave a very small nod, stood up, shrugged off his robes and tossed them in the large laundry hamper, already stacked with the rest of the team's robes. Presumably the team houselves would launder everything and return them before the next match.

"Let's just go home," he said. He took her hand again and they disappaparated.

His bedroom was dark, but Marlowe didn't turn on a light. He just stepped closer to her and hugged her, resting his chin on top of her head. Caiti held onto him for as long as he needed. They didn't talk about it anymore that night.

—-

Three days later, Marlowe was still in a bit of a funk. He was sitting in his bedroom trying to clear his head before that morning's training session — Caiti had to work that morning and had already left — when his mum knocked on the door. She had her phone with her, one hand covering the receiver. "It's for you," she whispered. "It's on speaker."

Marlowe frowned.

"Hello?" he said hesitantly, still not quite comfortable with muggle technology.

"Is this Mr. Finnegan?" piped the voice on the other end of the line.

"Yes," he answered, feeling strange about being addressed that way. It was like being in school again, or like he'd become his dad.

"We're calling to let you know your offer on the 216 Edgewood lot has been accepted. We'd like to get you in to discuss next steps at your earliest convenience."

Marlowe's heart started pounding. "Oh," he said. "Oh, that's great. Thank you. I'm off work on Monday if that's okay?"

"Certainly. How does nine AM sound?"

"That's great," he said. He could actually feel his heartbeat inside his ears now, could almost feel his blood pulsing around his body. He felt more awake than he had in two weeks. He had really needed some good news.

After he'd hung up, he rushed to get ready so he'd have time to run to Diagon Alley and stop by the apothecary to tell Caiti.

"They accepted it," he said as soon as he saw her, standing behind the counter chopping herbs. "Our offer."

"What? Oh," Caiti's eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Yeah," he said, starting to smile for the first time since he'd found out.

"Oh my god," Caiti hurried around the counter to him and Marlowe kissed her hard.

"Monday at nine," he said. "We'll meet with them. You don't work then, right?"

She shook her head.

Caiti had to have noticed his lightness. He could see it in the way she looked at him. But she didn't comment. Just kissed him one more time and said goodbye with the biggest smile on her face.

Today, Marlowe thought, he was going to reset himself. He was ready to start doing better.