Marlowe didn't end up going into work that day. It was the first time he had ever called out and convincing him to do so had taken a lot of encouragement, but Caiti thought he was probably very glad he hadn't gone. He had stayed in bed the entire day and Caiti had sat with him the whole time, talking to him and trying to distract him when he was awake, rubbing his back when he wasn't.
She didn't go home until he did leave for work the following morning and as soon as she arrived, she burst into tears. Her mum was sitting on the living room couch and she looked up in alarm.
Caiti sank down next to her. She hadn't realized how much she'd been keeping in until she hadn't needed to anymore. Now it flooded out faster than she could keep up with.
"Caiti," her mum said. "Breathe sweetheart. What's wrong?"
She put her hands on Caiti's arms and tried to ask what was wrong, but Caiti couldn't answer her. Not until she had cried good and hard for several minutes.
"I just h-hate seeing him so sad," she choked out. "I hate seeing him hurting." Caiti explained to her what had happened, which was a surprise even to her. She hadn't planned on telling anyone, her mother especially.
She'd never really gotten Caiti's relationship with Marlowe, had never really trusted it the way Mrs. Finnegan did, but when she pulled Caiti into a tight hug, it felt like maybe she'd started to understand.
"Oh honey," she said, smoothing her hand over Caiti's hair. "I know. I know how much you love him."
"I just don't know what to do," she said. Her voice wouldn't stop shaking. Actually her whole body was shaking. Her teeth chattered and she couldn't keep her hands still and her brain felt so busy. "I'm trying so hard to figure this out. I'm trying so hard and I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing, and what if I never get there? What if I never fix it? I can't let him keep feeling like this every month for the rest of his life. It's awful."
That was when her mum let go of her and looked her right in the eye. "Caiti," she said. For a few moments, she was quiet, her jaw set like she was determined to do something. "I have never in my life met a more persistent child," she said. "When you were little, when you were trying to learn something new, to figure something out, you would work at it and work at it without stopping until you did it perfectly. Sean was never like that. Sean was so cautious. He wouldn't try something until he knew he could do it or he knew he had help. You weren't that way at all. You tried before it was easy. You would set your mind to something and you would make it happen. You might not think you can do this yet, but you will. Because you want to. And that's all you need to keep going."
And then Caiti started to cry all over again because her mother had never, never spoken to her like that.
"He's very, very lucky to have you in his corner," she said, pulling Caiti back into her arms. Caiti just tucked her face down and held on tight.
—-
That afternoon, Caiti had sent a letter to Professor Pym. It was the first time she had reached out since school ended and she had thought first about asking Alora for advice, but she'd decided not to, because something about this felt too personal.
Professor Pym had known Marlowe, had taught him for seven years, and she knew Caiti much better than Alora did. Caiti liked Alora very much, but the years of trust she had built up with Professor Pym were what she needed right then. Not a fresh set of eyes.
Professor Pym wrote her back, agreeing to meet that weekend in Hogsmeade, and Caiti spent the few days leading up to that meeting trying to be as prepared as possible. She wrote lists of questions, did as much research as she could so she wouldn't waste time with things she could answer herself, and planned exactly how to explain what she needed.
By the time Saturday rolled around, Caiti had worked herself up so much that she had a stomach-ache. She hadn't told Marlowe what she was doing, only because she didn't want him to see her lack of confidence about what to do with the venom he'd collected — not after what he'd gone through to get it — but he was at work today anyway. He didn't need to know yet.
Hogsmeade was sunny, but quiet. She had never been here in the summer before, without the hustle and bustle of students. She met Professor Pym at the Three Broomsticks and they sat at a little bistro table outside. Caiti had only ever been here as an escape from the cold, and found that she didn't know what to order. A warm mug of butterbeer didn't feel quite right at the end of August.
They spent a few minutes catching up, and Caiti stared out at the castle in the distance a little wistfully. She hadn't thought she'd miss it after the catastrophe of last year, but now that she had a little distance she found she did. It was weird to think about not going back in a week. She missed the years when it had been the four of them, when Hogwarts had been fun and felt how it was supposed to.
As they ran out of small talk, though, Professor Pym folded her hands and leaned forward a bit and it felt so, so familiar. "So," she said. "You wanted to talk to me about something."
Caiti's mouth felt dry.
"Yeah," she said.
Professor Pym waited. Caiti had sort of forgotten how she did that.
"I guess I'm just feeling a little... paralyzed," Caiti said. She took a deep breath. "Marlowe did something for me that he thinks might help and... well, I think it might, too, but I don't really—" She stopped to re-collect her thoughts.
"Sorry. I should be more clear." She shut her eyes for a second. It was hard to say this without thinking about that morning just a few days ago, how broken Marlowe had seemed. "He got this idea that maybe if he collected some of the venom, that I could use it to figure out what counteracts it. But getting it wasn't really... it wasn't easy for him. He was kind of a mess the next day. And I just... I don't want to do the wrong thing and waste it."
"Have you talked to Alora about this?"
Caiti shook her head. "I know she'd probably have good advice. I just felt like I needed to talk to someone who knows me better. And you know Marlowe, too."
Professor Pym just nodded. She was quiet for a while, but Caiti didn't have anything left to add. Despite all the planning she had done ahead of this meeting, she had no ideas, no leads, no specific questions. Anything she'd thought she wanted to ask had sifted right out of her brain.
"How much do you have?"
"Not much," said Caiti. "A few drops."
She nodded again, her eyes cast past Caiti's shoulder.
"Venom is a little different than poison," she said finally. "And partly that's just it's purpose and how it's used, but it's more than that. It has different properties. It reacts differently to other ingredients. There are antidotes for poisons of course, after the fact. Venoms need to be sort of... nullified. Before you're ever bitten. I don't know that there's a venom out there we can really cure someone from, once they've been bitten or stung. Some venoms aren't as strong and there effects will fade after a few hours or a few days, like if you're bitten by a doxy. But werewolf venom..."
"It's permanent," Caiti filled in.
"Right. It damages your system in a way that, at least for now, we don't know how to undo. But if you can figure out how to neutralize it before someone is bitten... that, I think, is where you might be able to be successful."
"I just don't know how to do that," said Caiti. She felt tears building behind her eyes and in her throat, which was annoying, but completely expected, because these days, she cried or nearly cried every time she thought about how big this project was and how unequipped she felt. The longer she worked on it, the more it stressed her out.
"Well," said Professor Pym. "That's what we're here to talk about. I think we can come up with a plan."
—-
They talked for nearly three hours. Caiti filled seven pages of her notebook with thoughts, people to reach out to, books to check the library for, possible first steps, and many, many new questions. She didn't feel better, exactly, but she felt more organized. She felt at least a little less hopeless.
After Professor Pym left, heading back to the castle, Caiti stopped by Honeydukes, thinking she would pick up some of the crystallized pineapple Marlowe was so fond of (even though she was wholly incapable of encouraging this habit without calling him an old man).
As she walked that way, she passed a newsstand and a flash of orange robes on the cover of one of the magazines made her doubletake. She stopped, took a few steps back, and peered at the cover.
There was Marlowe, crouching in the center of the pitch beside Jack, not the main image on the cover, but a fairly sizable photo in the bottom right hand corner. A large yellow arrow pointed to the picture accompanied by the words "Quidditch heartthrob gives us all a new reason to swoon."
She picked up the magazine, flipping through until she found the article. She skimmed through it, getting a little pink in the face when the writer added that a number of fans had reported that "Finnegan even stopped by his girlfriend's seat in the stands to give her a little smooch." But besides that embarrassing mention, it was really a very complimentary article. Yes, it was almost nauseatingly positive, gushing over his good looks and his apparent philanthropy, but it was better than bashing him. She set the magazine down again and found she had a bit of a new pep in her step.
So what if gossip magazines wanted to publish whatever tidbits they could about their relationship? So what if they wanted to make Marlowe out to be this object of fixation? He was pretty spectacular. And he was hers. She started to smile at the very thought.
—-
Marlowe was trying to be normal. He was trying so damn hard to act like everything was fine. But ever since that last full moon, he had felt so off. His dad kept acting all awkward around him and Caiti and his mum kept looking at him like he was a sick puppy, and he knew they were only doing it because they cared, but it only made him feel worse.
He felt so weak after what he'd done. Not physically. Physically he felt fine. He was back to his normal self. But his mind felt weak. He felt like he'd lost all conviction.
He needed to do something to snap himself out of his funk, to forget for a minute. And for that, he needed someone who wasn't going to baby him or ask questions he didn't want to answer like are you alright?
There was only one person for that job, and luckily he was still home for one more week.
He needed Elliot.
He stopped Aaron Sutton in the locker rooms after work.
"Hey."
Aaron looked up. "Hey."
"Does that offer to help my brother out with seeking still stand? I know it's a little last minute."
"Oh," he gave a little laugh. "Yeah, sure."
"He goes back to school on Sunday, but I'm free any night up until then."
"Tomorrow night work, then?"
"Yeah. That'd be perfect."
Aaron gave a short nod.
"Thanks," Marlowe added. "He'll be really excited."
So the following evening, Marlowe swung back home after work to grab Elliot and then brought him back to the pitch with him.
He found Aaron back waiting for them and said. "Evening, Mr. Sutton," in his best pompous voice. "I have here for you the future seeker of the Ravenclaw quidditch team. A star in the making and probably your successor."
"It's an honor," said Aaron holding out his hand to Elliot. They introduced themselves and then Aaron said, "So, I thought I'd walk you through some of the warmup drills we do and then we could practice with the snitch a bit. Maybe get your brother to throw in a few diversions. See how you do."
Elliot looked simultaneously nervous and very, very excited.
Aaron had him do sprints across the field on his broom and Marlowe raced him, holding back only the tiniest bit because his broom was so far superior it almost wasn't fair, but he knew Elliot would hate it if he went too easy on him.
Then Aaron had him practice a variety of dives and quick changes of direction, giving him pointers on accelerating quickly, maintaining control and balance, and how to stop without much space. "Damn," he said, hovering in the air next to Marlowe after they watched Elliot make one particularly well executed swerve. "Kid can fly."
"Runs in the family," Marlowe grinned.
He was joking, but Aaron just said, "Clearly," like he really meant it.
Elliot seemed to be feeling pretty good about himself until they got out the snitch, and then his nerves snuck back in. They tried without any obstacles first, but Elliot kept jerking when he went to grab it, missing each time, and finally Aaron had to catch it before it flew too far away. Marlowe had seen him catch it just fine when it had been just the two of them, but there hadn't been so much pressure to perform then.
"Let's take a quick break," Aaron said, leading him back down to the ground. Elliot looked so defeated.
They sat where the team usually sat during matches, Elliot slumped on the bench with his broom between his knees.
"I can't do it when people are watching," he said. "That's what happens at school."
"You did it when I was watching," said Marlowe. "You got it every time when you and I came out here last."
"That's different."
"The thing about seeking," said Aaron, "is that it takes a lot of patience. People don't always think about that. I mean they know there's a lot of waiting around until you spot it, but then once you see it they think it's just about being fast, and it's not. The way you approach a catch has to be patient. If you just try to go as fast as you can, you'll miss it. You have to find a balance between catching up to it and keeping up with it. You never want to outfly the snitch. If you go faster than it does... you just pass it."
Elliot said nothing to any of this.
"What I saw you doing a little bit.... And believe me, we've all been here... it was like you'd see it. You get excited and you start speeding up to get there and you're accelerating, you're accelerating, and then you get close enough to catch it but you're going so fast it's not actually possible to stop or even really aim your hand. And so there's a point where you actually have to start slowing down, just enough. And I think that's what we want to pinpoint. It takes some practice, but I think if we give it a shot a few times. I can kind of stick with you and show you how I gauge when to start slowing... I bet before you leave you'll feel better."
Elliot just nodded a little.
"The other thing... Pardon my language here."
"S'fine," Elliot muttered. "I'm thirteen. I've already heard everything."
Aaron laughed. "Well, being a seeker is fucking scary," he said. "I mean everyone's counting on you to get all those points and you've got this impossible job and it's chaotic and everything's moving fast, and the crowd is loud, and honestly, what I have to do is just tune it. Forget about everything else. I don't watch the match. I don't pay attention to the score. I don't really have a clue what's happening until there's a timeout and someone catches me up. I just focus on my one job and if I do that really well, I can usually forget about everything else and everyone else and that's when I get the snitch. When I let the outside sneak in, I get distracted. You've just got to find that hyper-focus."
Aaron laughed again.
"Sometimes when I'm really in it, it's like the whole world goes black and white and the only color I see is gold."
Elliot smiled a little at that. Marlowe was in awe. It was the complete opposite of everything he tried to do in his own position. He always felt like to be successful, he needed to be aware of everyone and everything.
"You think you want to try again?" Aaron asked.
Elliot nodded.
After that, they practiced a few times with golf balls. Aaron flew alongside Elliot, helping him practice managing his speed, and then let him try again with the snitch. For a few minutes, Elliot didn't seem to see it anywhere and Marlowe could see him shutting down again, could almost hear him yelling at himself for not being able focus when there wasn't even a match going on. But Aaron flew over to him, said something Marlowe couldn't hear, and Elliot nodded, adjusting his grip on his broom.
He caught it within two minutes, and Marlowe saw his shoulders sag with relief.
—-
At home a little while later, Elliot sat by Marlowe on the couch and said, "I wish you were still at Hogwarts," which was probably the nicest thing he had said to Marlowe in the last three years, minimum.
Marlowe smiled a little. "Yeah, I'll miss you, too."
Elliot wrinkled his nose. "I never said I was going to miss you," he said. "I just liked when you were captain better is all."
"Well," said Marlowe. "Give it another few years and you'll be captain."
He turned and gave Marlowe a hug and then got back up, heading into the kitchen where their mum was finishing up dinner.
"If Caiti comes over tonight," he said. "Tell her you two need to shut the fuck up," he called over his shoulder.
"Elliot," said their mum.
"What? It's the truth. No one can sleep when those two are yammering away all lovey dovey. It's disgusting."
"Your language is what's disgusting," said their mum.
But Marlowe just smiled, because he felt better than he had in days.