Caiti had expected the summer to plod by slower than usual without a new term at Hogwarts ticking ever nearer, but that wasn't the case at all. Weeks had flown by and July was already a week in. Though she'd work endlessly on her project, she had accomplished nothing, and she was growing more and more dejected by the day.

When Marlowe had said he could get tickets for her and Sean and Evelyn to that weekend's match, she took him up on it in an instant. Never mind that he would just be sitting with the other reserves on the off chance someone was needed. It was something else to think about. It was an excuse to be in someone else's world for a few hours.

Caiti needed to get the heck out of her own world, that was for sure. If she had to look at that damn African Sun Violet one more time...

She was thrilled, therefore, to be seated on Evelyn's right in a decent seat near the home team's goals in the Chudley Cannons stadium. It was a gorgeous day outside, warm and sunny, but not hot, and they had a bottle of iced butterbeer each and a large popcorn to share. She had finally broken down and bought several items of Chudley Cannons merchandise, even though they had not, much to her distaste, come out with any Finnegan options yet, and she wore one of them today, a gray shirt with the orange CC logo on the front.

The game had been going on over an hour already and not much was happening except that the other team — they were playing the Tutshill Tornadoes today — kept scoring. On a recent trip to the bathroom, Caiti had purchased one of the fancy season programs they sold near the concession stands.

She flipped through it now, smiling when she saw Marlowe's name and picture listed amongst the other reserves. The starters had a full page each with a larger picture of each of them zooming towards the camera to wink or making a spectacular goal, their names and positions emblazoned over the picture in large white letters. A small box in the corner listed their stats from the season so far.

"I can't wait till he gets a page like this," Caiti said. "I'll tease him about it for the rest of his life. So melodramatic."

"First year he was captain at school, he said he was going to make us shoot publicity photos like that," said Sean. "Thank god he forgot to ever do it."

Caiti and Evelyn both laughed.

Caiti flipped another page in the program, and as she did, a great chorus of ohs ran through the crowd.

Evelyn and Caiti both looked up from the program to see what was going on. "Ouch," Sean said, wincing as though something had just happened to him.

"What happened?" asked Evelyn. "I missed it."

"One of our beaters — I don't know which one — was going for the bludger at the same time as one of the other team's beaters, and the other guy clubbed him in the back of the head by mistake. Didn't get him full force. He was going for the bludger, but it definitely hit him."

Caiti grabbed the back of her own head instinctively. Play had paused while the medical team zoomed towards the player — currently being held up by two members of the other team, one of whom, Caiti was pretty sure was the one who had just hit him, because he had a bat tucked under his arm. It looked like the Cannons player had passed out.

The healers conjured up a stretcher and carefully floated him down to the ground and out of sight. The other guy had landed with them and dropped his bat, walking off the field. His team managers had run out to try to talk to him and they couldn't hear what was said from where they were seated, but it was evident he was refusing to play anymore. Caiti thought he might have been crying. She'd have been shaken up, too. There was always a certain level of risk in quidditch and people got hurt all the time, but hitting someone right in the head could do serious damage.

The stands hadn't gone silent, but a hush had certainly fallen over the crowd. Everyone whispered as though they were sitting around a hospital bed.

The rest of the players had landed by now too and they all huddled together, throwing lots of glances in the direction the stretcher had gone a few minutes previously.

It was nearly twenty minutes before play looked like it was about to resume. The announcer's voice boomed over the crowd again. "Ladies and gentlewizards, thank you for your patience. Eddie Walters, number twenty-seven, beater for the Chudley Cannons, will not return to the game this afternoon. He has suffered a severe concussion, but we are assured he will make a full recovery. Thomas Campbell, number fifty-four, of the Tutshill Tornadoes has withdrawn himself from play and will be replaced by Archer Webster, number sixteen.

"In addition, Mr. Walters will be replaced by number eight, Marlowe Finnegan."

Caiti straightened up, eyes going wide.

"Again, thank you for your patience, and Go Cannons!"

The crowd began to applaud, Sean clapping hard at this newest announcement, but Caiti was still in shock. "Oh my god," she said. Evelyn reached over and squeezed her hand. "Oh my god," she said again. "They subbed him in. There's like three other people they could've put in."

"Well, he did well last time didn't he?" said Evelyn.

Caiti nodded. "So well," she said. And then there was the sound of a whistle and the players were back in the air and she spotted Marlowe up there now, looking nervous, but ready.

—-

As soon as an update had reached them from the medical team that Walters wouldn't be back in, Benson had looked at Marlowe and said, "You're in. Go get your robes on."

"What?" Marlowe asked, and he actually glanced over his shoulder to make sure Benson wasn't looking at someone behind him. He laughed and clapped Marlowe on the shoulder. "You," he said. "You're in, kid. Go get ready."

Technically, Marlowe should already have been ready. He was supposed to treat each game like he might be called in at any moment, but as that never happened, he had gotten a little lazy about it. He'd warmed up with everyone else before the match, but since then he'd been sat on the bench watching along with the rest of the team, only half dressed in his gear since it was warm out and he wouldn't need it anyway.

Or so he'd thought. He hurried back to get his robes on and grabbed his broom, tried to shake out his limbs quickly and get his head in the game. Next thing he knew, he was up in the air, bat in hand, and the ref was blowing the whistle to resume play.

The other team had eighty points on the board. They had a solid ten. He could tell half the players were distracted by what had just happened. There was a weird, frenzied energy about everyone. The chasers seemed to throw the quaffle at random, not really to anyone or in any particular direction. Someone from the Tornadoes took a shot at the goals, but missed by so far Crawford, their keeper, didn't even have to attempt to save it. It just fell and one of the Cannons flew low and scooped it up.

Marlowe almost felt bad hitting the bludger near anyone. Everyone who'd been on the field before was edgy. He tried to aim it where it would distract but not come too close to anyone. It was tricky, trickier than usual, and he felt rusty. He never got to really play. The closest he came anymore was scrimmages with his own team, but it was hard to make that feel like a real match, no matter how much they trash talked each other to work up fake competition.

He hovered for a moment, tried to figure out what was happening, what strategy the other team was using that he could try to intervene in, but they were so discombobulated it was almost impossible to decipher a play.

A bludger was hurtling his way, oblivious and Marlowe knew he only had a few seconds to make a decision and then he had to do something, because if they'd put him in this game and he sat there and did nothing, he'd blow his chance.

So Marlowe glanced at the chasers, now heading towards the Cannons side of the field, and he swung at the bludger, sending it skimming just under the feet of the oncoming chasers. The one with the quaffle jerked on his broom and tried to pass, but it was a weak, disordered pass, and one of Marlowe's own teammates intercepted it easily, shooting back off towards the other side of the field. He was halfway to the goals before the others had caught up. One well-aimed attempt at the goals and they'd raised the score to twenty. They were still a far way off but it was something for the orange and black supporters to celebrate and Marlowe had done something useful.

He took a deep breath, shook out his arm, still a little stiff from sitting the first hour of the game, and put an eye out for bludgers to see what else he might do.

—-

The game only lasted twenty minutes after Marlowe was put in. The Tornadoes got the snitch and beat the Cannons one hundred eighty to thirty, but Caiti felt like she might burst into tears anyway. She was so damn proud of him. He was playing so well. He was making such smart decisions. She could tell, and she didn't even know quidditch that well. But Sean kept saying so, too, and he'd actually played. All Evelyn could say was, "He's playing pro quidditch. That's just wild. He's actually out there doing it. Just like he said he would as a kid."

And each time she repeated this, the burning, prickling feeling behind Caiti's eyes got a little worse, a little harder to hold off, until finally after what felt like forever, Marlowe came jogging up to where he'd told them to meet him after the match, and Caiti burst into tears.

She ran to meet him halfway, throwing her arms around him. "You're crying," Marlowe said with a half laugh. "Why are you crying?"

"You got to play!" she said. "You got to play, and you were so good, and I was there."

"Yeah, but you don't have to cry about it," Marlowe said sheepishly. "It was only a couple of minutes. And we lost anyway."

Caiti pulled back. "Well that doesn't matter," she said. Marlowe reached out and brushed a tear off her cheek.

"I am glad you were there," he said, that familiar crooked smile starting to spread across his face. "Cause now you have to give me a congratulatory kiss."

Caiti smiled big. Marlowe had used to say something like this to her after every match at school, had done since she was eleven. Of course, he had only played one game where she'd actually taken him up on the offer. She stood up on her highest tip toes and kissed him.

"Had to," he said when they broke apart. "For old times' sake."

They turned towards Sean and Evelyn. Sean looked extremely uncomfortable.

"Nice job," he said when they'd made their way over to them. "It's fun to get to see you play."

"Thanks," Marlowe smiled. "I miss playing with you."

Sean actually looked a little sad at this statement. She couldn't remember him expressing any regret that his quidditch days were over since leaving school.

"Sean tells me you were going to do publicity photos for the team when you first got made captain," she said, remembering.

"Oh yeah," said Marlowe, eyes widening. "I'd forgotten about that. Never did get around to it."

"Shame," said Sean sarcastically.

"It really is," said Evelyn. "I'd've paid good money to see those."

—-

The four of them grabbed a bite to eat before they'd headed their separate ways. It was only the second time since Caiti had come home that they'd all been together and it was nice, laughing and talking like old times. Sean was starting to seem like himself again, joking in that quiet way of his, and Evelyn didn't have that lost look about her anymore.

Still, Marlowe was glad when he and Caiti were alone later that night. They'd been accosted with questions by Elliot and his parents for the better part of an hour, all about the match, the injury, the likelihood that Marlowe would be asked to sub in again at the next match, and on and on and on.

But now, finally, everyone was going to bed, and it was just the two of them in Marlowe's room. They lay in the dark just looking at each other, all out of words. Caiti looked so pretty. She always did, but it really hit him now. He suddenly remembered the first time they had fallen asleep in the same bed, how nervous Caiti had been, how comfortable she was around him now.

She reached out and touched his face, hand sliding down and around the back of his neck. Her touch raised goosebumps on his arms.

"How're you feeling about everything?" she asked.

It was a simple question, but it took him by surprise, because no one had asked it all day. There had been a lot of assuming. You must be so excited and that sort of thing. But no one had just outright asked.

"I don't know," he said. "Good, I guess. I'd prefer Eddie wasn't injured, but... I mean, I'm glad they put me in."

"And it was the one game I went to," Caiti said smiling. "I'd've been so mad if I'd missed it."

"Guess you'll have to start coming to them all," Marlowe joked. "Just in case."

"Probably," said Caiti. "It's only reasonable."

Marlowe laughed. They smiled big at each other until the door to Marlowe's bedroom suddenly sprang open, flooding them with light and they both jumped.

It was Elliot in the doorway. "Cut out your canoodling. I'm gonna throw up," he said. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

"You're just jealous you haven't got the nurse's daughter to go out with you yet," said Marlowe covering his face with a pillow. The hall light was way too bright. "Go to bed."

They didn't talk anymore after Elliot had left, just in case he decided to make a reappearance. Instead, Marlowe whispered, "Love you," kissed Caiti on the forehead, and pulled her in close.

"Love you, too," she whispered back.

He took a deep breath before he shut his eyes.