Caiti's N.E.W.T. results arrived early on Friday morning. She recognized the envelope from when Sean had received his the previous summer. That had been a big event. Everyone had been in the kitchen; her mum had nearly cried; her dad had spent days boasting; Sean had looked embarrassed.
No one was here today. Her parents had both left for work. Caiti sat alone on the back porch, still in her pajamas, a cup of tea in hand. She didn't want to open it.
She also really did want to open it.
She slid a finger under the seal and peeled the lip of the envelope back.
Inside was a single piece of parchment. The top listed her name and the dates of her test, the names of the test administrators, and contact information for the N.E.W.T. headquarters, should she have any questions or concerns about her results.
Below this were her scores, listed by subject in alphabetical order.
Ancient Runes - n/a
Arithmancy - E
Astronomy - E
Care of Magical Creatures - n/a
Charms - O
Defense Against the Dark Arts - E
Divination - n/a
Herbology - O
History of Magic - n/a
Muggle Studies - O
Potions - O
Transfiguration - n/a
Caiti was surprised. For as little time as she had spent on her homework all year, she had done well. Of course, Sean had gotten O's in everything he'd taken, even with the tournament and quidditch and everything else, but still. Caiti had never been Sean.
She was proud of herself. She'd done better than she had on her O.W.L.s and she's gotten an O in herbology of all things. She would have to send Professor Munslow a thank you for that one. Surely it was all that extra time spent learning to grow her sun violets.
Still, the list felt a little anticlimactic. Seven years of her life, reduced to this one piece of paper, a couple of letters. And now what was she supposed to do with it?
Some naive part of her had imagined that good N.E.W.T. scores were the secret key that would unlock the adult world for her and suddenly Caiti would understand things, have a plan. Her whole life, everyone had said this test was so important.
Edison was hopping around next to her and she scooped him up, holding him at eye level.
"Edison," she said. "I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing."
—-
It was six o'clock on Friday evening. Marlowe had gotten home from practice about an hour ago so he could shower and change into regular clothes, but now he was supposed to be leaving to go to St. Mungo's and he just couldn't do it.
He'd talked to the people in HR like Caiti had suggested and they'd set up a time for him to go, had even had several pieces of merchandise custom made with his name and number on the back to give to the kid, and Marlowe knew it was the right thing to do, but he just couldn't.
The thought of going back into one of those rooms and remembering what it had felt like to lie there and know his life had taken such a severe turn was painful. The thought of seeing a little boy going through the very same thing was worse.
"Marlowe," his mum said. "You will bring this little boy so much joy just by going and talking to him for half an hour. Pull yourself together."
It was only because his mum so rarely demanded things of him that he listened right away. When she talked like this, Marlowe knew he was being stupid and he'd better pay attention.
They took the floo network. His mum hated side-along apparation. Truth be told, she didn't much like the floo network either, but as they weren't about to drive from Ireland to London, straight across the water and all, she put up with it.
Marlowe kept his head down as they walked up to Jack's room. He hated how he still knew the way to the Creature Induced Injuries Ward.
He looked up to read the numbers on the doors, stopping in front of 216 where Jack was supposed to be.
The door was open partway but he couldn't see anyone inside yet.
His mum put a hand on his back. Marlowe knocked.
A woman Marlowe could only assume was Jack's mum answered the door and she started beaming when she saw who it was. She had a kind smile, but she looked so tired beneath it.
"Jack," she called, grinning from ear to ear. "We've got someone here to see you. I think you'll be very excited."
She led Marlowe into the room, his mum close behind.
Jack was sitting up in bed. There were puffy bags under his eyes and his skin looked a little sallow, but otherwise he just looked like a regular kid. A kid with sandy blonde hair and freckles. His eyes opened wide with recognition when he realized who it was.
Marlowe felt frozen.
"I can't believe you came," said Jack, like Marlowe was some great celebrity and not just a nineteen year old kid on a reserve quidditch contract.
He swallowed. He had to live up to this kid's expectations just a little bit.
"Of course," he said. "I uhm..." He glanced at Jack's mum and dad, now sitting at the round table. Marlowe remembered the table like that in his own hospital room. He remembered sitting there and signing some papers saying he was dangerous, promising to wear that stupid pin he was supposed to wear in public so people knew what he was. He almost never actually wore it. Only when he thought someone might be around that would notice if he didn't.
He also remembered his mum telling the ministry officials in no uncertain terms that he was not to be called a magical creature.
Marlowe pulled up a chair by Jack's bed.
"It wasn't so long ago I was in your position," he said. "I remember all of this."
Marlowe wanted to say more, but he felt everyone's eyes on him and it was hard to know what to say. He didn't want to scare his parents, but he wanted to be open with this kid. Just looking at him, he felt like he could take it, was maybe even craving it.
"Do you feel normal?" the boy asked. It was so out of the blue, such an honest question, it practically knocked the wind of him.
"No," Marlowe said. "I don't. I'm not. But it's... not being normal doesn't mean your life is over. It just means things look different than you thought they would. It took me a while to come to terms with everything. Actually, I'm still kind of working on that part. It was hard for a long time not to be angry. But my family, my friends... they all helped me realize I've still got a future. I can still do the things I always wanted to do. I might have to fight a little harder to get them. And sometimes they're harder to manage once I have them. But I can still do everything I thought I could before. I'm not normal but I'm not that different either. And neither are you."
Jack smiled a little bit.
He started asking a bunch of questions about quidditch then, and every once in a while he would ask a question about being a werewolf which was a little jarring, but Marlowe found it easier and easier to answer them as time went on. There was something about talking to someone who was dealing with, or would soon be dealing with, the same things he did that made it easier to say some of the things he usually kept to himself.
His mum was talking with Jack's parents, which was nice because Marlowe found it easier to talk to him when he wasn't being observed. It was even sort of fun. Jack was funny. He thought everything Marlowe said was super cool. And when Marlowe got out the quidditch gear he'd brought for him — a Chudley Cannons blanket, as Caiti had suggested, a sweatshirt with Finnegan on the back and a big number 8, and a couple of t-shirts — Jack looked at him like he was Santa Claus and it was Christmas morning.
"Will you come back?" Jack asked when one of the healers came in and Marlowe and his mum figured they'd better get out of their way.
"Yeah," said Marlowe. "I will."
Jack's mum followed him out into the hall and said, "D'you mind if I give you a hug?"
"No," said Marlowe in surprise. "No, that's fine."
She wrapped her arms around him and started to cry.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just so grateful. You have no idea. We don't know what we're doing, we don't know what to say or how to explain... and you were just so wonderful with him. Bringing all those things and all. You didn't have to do this. He'd have been excited just to get a signed picture back."
"I couldn't have done that," said Marlowe. "That isn't enough. He's a sweet kid. I'm happy to help a little if I can."
"You've helped tremendously," she said, wiping away her tears. "And you too," she said to his mum. "It's done me such good to speak to another parent."
"We can chat anytime you like," she smiled.
As the two of them walked back out of the ward and towards the lobby where the fireplaces were, his mum put her arm around his waist and gave him a little squeeze. "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. Not just for today. For everything. You've really taken a bad situation and made the best of it."
"Thanks," said Marlowe, a little embarrassed.
"Honestly, I'm proud of myself, too," she said. "I raised a pretty outstanding kid." And with that, she gave herself a little pat on the back, smiled at him, and then went to grab a fistful of floo powder to head back home.
—-
Around eight o'clock that evening, Marlowe went looking for Caiti to tell her how everything had gone. He'd gone to her house first and had an awkward exchange with her dad who informed she had gone back to the greenhouse to work on something else after dinner, so he'd gone there next.
He'd brought a plastic bag with a surprise for her that he was very excited about, but as soon as he found her standing at the big table in the middle of the greenhouse, he dropped it on the floor to get back to later. There was a weird energy about her. She had all kinds of stuff spread out around her. Various herbology tools, six or seven pots (some empty), an open notebook, three different books open to various pages, two different ink pots and a quill in each.
"Hey," he said.
Caiti looked up. He'd expected the busy look, the one where it took her a minute to register that he was there, to pull her head out of whatever she'd been doing. But Caiti didn't look busy, she looked lost.
"What are you working on?" he asked, coming closer to her.
Caiti put the heels of her hands on the edge of the table, looked at the mess around her, and just shook her head. "I don't even know," she whispered.
Marlowe put his hand on her low back, looking around at everything in the hopes that he might understand the connection between it all and say something useful, but at his touch, Caiti's eyes started to well up with tears.
"Oh god," he said. "I'm sorry— I didn't mean—"
"It's not you, don't be stupid," Caiti sniffed. "I just don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing."
This was only the second time Marlowe had heard Caiti use a word like that (though this time, thankfully, it didn't seem to be directed at him). He found it just as surprising as the first.
She started closing all the books she had opened, closed her notebook, stuck caps in the ink pots, and then stacked as much up as she could carry, brought it into the other room and dropped it all on the table. Marlowe felt like a helpless puppy following her around. He didn't know what to do.
Caiti sat down heavily on the sofa, her face in her hands. Marlowe lowered himself down next to her, rested a hand between her shoulder blades, and brushed his thumb back and forth.
"Is there anything I can do?" he asked.
Caiti didn't lift her face up. "No," she said.
Marlowe thought hard, searching around for the right thing to say. He wished his mum were there. She'd have known what to do. He rubbed her back while he thought, and then a horrible thought occurred to him.
There was something he could do to help. Something he had told himself he was going to do and then the opportunity had arisen and Marlowe had been so caught up in his own stuff, he'd totally forgotten.
"This is just really, really hard," Caiti said. The tears were pouring down her face now. "I don't know why anyone thought I could do this. I'm eighteen. I've never even had a real job. I don't know what to do. I can throw things in a cauldron all day, but how am I supposed to know if it's working or not?"
Marlowe's heart sank.
"Caiti, come're," he said, sitting back. He pulled her into his arms and held onto her while she cried, like she had just done for him the other day. Caiti had been so, so good to him this summer. He hadn't quite taken it for granted, but almost.
He rested his chin on top of her head and took a deep breath. He didn't want to promise anything out loud because he was still afraid he would chicken out when the time came to actually do it, but he wasn't going to forget this time.
"Everyone thought you could do this because you can," he said.
"Everyone thought I could do this because I have an O on my N.E.W.T.," said Caiti darkly. "That means absolutely nothing."
"Hang on, when did your N.E.W.T. results come in?"
"This morning." She rattled off her scores for him, but she didn't sound excited about it at all.
"Caiti, that's amazing," Marlowe said. "Damn. Nothing lower than Exceeds Expectations? That's way better than I did."
Caiti shrugged. "It's just a piece of paper," she said. She wiped away a tear.
"Well it's a piece of paper that says you're really smart, so it's not all that bad," said Marlowe.
Caiti smiled a little but only for a second. "And you missed a whole month of school and were dealing with a serious life upheaval, so don't compare. You still did really well."
Marlowe brushed this comment off. He didn't enjoy thinking about his last few months at Hogwarts. They weren't all bad, but certainly not what he'd imagined for himself.
"Listen, you are going to figure this thing out," said Marlowe. "You are easily the most determined person I've ever met. And you're talented. That and maybe a little luck are all you need. You'll figure it out."
"I just wish I knew how," she whispered. "I wish there were steps. I need a recipe."
Then she extracted herself from his arms, sat back against the couch, shoulder to shoulder with him, and she took his hand. Marlowe wove their fingers together.
"What did you come over for?" she asked. Her voice still sounded thick with tears, but her eyes were dry. "You looked like you wanted to say something."
"Oh," said Marlowe. "Right. I was just going to tell you my mum and I went to the hospital. To see that kid."
Caiti looked at him, waiting for more.
"It was actually really great. You were right. About me going. It was a good idea. I think it made him really happy."
Caiti smiled a little and this time, it didn't fade so fast.
"I'm gonna go back and see him again in a few days."
"Good," Caiti said. "I'm glad you did it."
"Maybe when he gets home, I'll see if I can get him tickets to a match. I could show him around the pitch and everything."
Caiti turned to him all of the sudden and kissed him, her free hand on his cheek.
"You're wonderful," she said. "I really, really love you."
Marlowe's cheeks felt hot.
"I love you, too," he said. He noticed his heart rate had picked up.
Caiti kept looking at him with her eyes all sad and Marlowe couldn't take it anymore. He had to think of something to get that look off her face.
"I have something for you," he said.
"What?"
"Hang on. I'll be right back." Marlowe jumped up and hurried out to grab the bag he'd dropped at the door.
"Sorry it isn't like... wrapped or anything," he said. Why was he so nervous all of the sudden?
"That's okay," Caiti said quietly. She took the bag from him, reached inside and pulled out the three items inside. There was a long-sleeved t-shirt, a sweatshirt, and a zip-up jacket, all with his name and number on the back. Caiti held one up, turning it around to where it said Finnegan.
"They made stuff for me to give to Jack," Marlowe said. "And I asked if they could make an extra for you."
Caiti's eyes filled with tears all over again.
"Shoot, I was trying not to make you cry," said Marlowe.
But Caiti just hugged him tight. "I'm going to wear them everywhere," she said. "And boast about you to everyone."