VIOLET (A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction)

7.

"Right," said Marlowe. "It's okay. I get it."

"I'm sorry," Caiti said. "I wish I could be there."

Marlowe didn't say anything. She had never seen him so nervous to play quidditch in her life, not even before his first match back in the spring.

Caiti couldn't stop herself. The tears she had felt a moment ago started to well up in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"Don't."

Caiti sat there, blinking hard, not sure what else to say, until Marlowe sighed and turned to hug her. She thought at first that he was just trying to hide the fact that he was annoyed with her, but then he smoothed his hand over her hair and she knew he wasn't, really.

"You'll do great," she said, chin on his shoulder. "You'll be amazing. They wouldn't put you in if they didn't think you could handle it."

Marlowe just turned his head and kissed Caiti on the cheek, resting his face against her head for a moment before he pulled away from her.

"Thanks for bringing these," he said, nodding to the potions.

"Of course," she said softly.

—-

They were playing Pride of Portree today. Walters was there, but already, he'd gotten comfortable and Marlowe heard him talking to Benson about how the healers had cleared him to practice, but not play yet, which meant there was no getting out of whatever mess was about to happen.

He wished Caiti were able to be there if only because she would be the only one there Marlowe hadn't done his best to hide how ill he felt from. His parents and Elliot had managed to get tickets, but he almost wished they hadn't. He hadn't been one hundred percent honest with them this morning. He hadn't wanted his dad to see how awful he felt.

"How're you feeling?" McSorley asked, coming up beside Marlowe as they left the field after warm-up.

"I-" Marlowe began, but he didn't even know where to begin.

"You'll do great," McSorley said, and left it at that.

The crowd was starting to fill in now. They were too loud in his ears. His head pounded and he felt overwhelmed, overstimulated. His shoulder ached just from the few warmup swings he had taken. He just wanted to go home, lay in the dark and quiet, let Caiti take care of him.

But he was here and his team was counting on him and he knew Benson would be watching him carefully the entire match. Deep down, Marlowe really did want to do well. It was just hard to focus on that amidst everything else.

He sat down on the bench while he could, rested his head back against the wall behind him and breathed slowly and evenly.

Too soon, they were being hustled into order to head out onto the field and Marlowe felt like his head had been stuffed inside a balloon. He followed McSorley, gripping his broom tight, afraid he might drop it or trip over it, until they were all lined up at the center of the field, facing the opposing team. McSorley made eye contact with Marlowe, gave him a brief nod, and then looked forward again.

"Ladies and gentleman," called out the announcer. "We welcome you to this afternoon's match between the Chudley Cannons and your very own PRIDE. OF. PORTREE!!" The crowd roared. There were a few orange shirts and hats sprinkled throughout the crowd, but very few. Marlowe had never played an away game before.

"First up, give a warm welcome to our guests..." And at this, the announcer began calling out the names of each of his teammates on the field with him. Marlowe felt so shaky he almost missed it when they called his name, only managing to kick off the ground just in time not to appear awkward. He took a lap around the field coming back into position in the air beside McSorley who had been called just before him, and then watched as Aaron Sutton made the final lap for the Cannons. The seeker was always called last.