Eighteen. Sprout.

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For almost two weeks straight, there had been no sign of the plant whatsoever. The soil remained unchanged no matter how often Caiti stopped out at the greenhouses to check on it, always hoping for even the tiniest sprout. In the meantime, she and Professor Munslow continued to care for the seed according to the very detailed and complex instructions they'd been provided, and Caiti continued to mess around with various potion ingredients, deluding herself that she had anything resembling a plan when she sat down to work.

Professor Pym gave her lots of suggestions about how to plan and track her tests, assured her that this kind of process was always messy and unpredictable, that you really couldn't plan to discover something but had to fumble around until you found it by mistake. Caiti knew this was all meant to make her feel better about her lack of direction, but it didn't.

Marlowe had seemed happy when she'd taken him his potion the night the seeds had first arrived. He had seemed in good spirits. He had hugged her and smiled a lot and told her stories about work (which was a subject he had been relatively silent on ever since she'd gone back to school). He had made a note to himself to check if he was free for her next Hogsmeade weekend — he wasn't, but she hadn't expected him to be — and they had started making plans for what they would do while she was home for Christmas. It had been nice. It really had.

But Caiti hadn't missed how exhausted he looked. She hadn't missed the way he winced when he moved, the way he moved a little more gingerly, slowly than he usually would have. She definitely hadn't missed the way his eyes flicked out the window every so often, keeping tabs on the sunset.

If she had pointed this out to him, he'd've said he just wanted to make it outside before it was fully dark, just to be safe, but she knew it was more than that. There was real fear in the way he looked out the window. There was dread.

Caiti couldn't get that look out of her head after she left.

She had already stopped by the greenhouses during her morning break, but the moment classes ended for the afternoon, she slung her bag over her shoulder and headed down again. Professor Munslow was probably sick of seeing her already, but this was her only real lead, and she couldn't think about anything but making sure Marlowe never had a reason to look like that again.

A gust of freezing cold December air slapped her across the face when she stepped outside and Caiti ducked her head down as she trudged into the wind, stuffing her hands safely into her pockets.

This weather made her think about last year this time. She remembered how no one had been able to talk about anything by the upcoming Yule Ball. Who was going with who... who didn't have a date yet... what everyone was wearing... and Caiti had been sure for the first time that she had started to really like Marlowe as more than a friend.

It was crazy to think it had almost been a year since they'd kissed.

It was crazier to think that in less than two months, it would be a year since the attack.

The greenhouse was stiflingly warm after the wet, winter air. Caiti shed her cloak almost at once and headed straight for the little corner where she and Professor Munslow had set up the Sun Violet. He wasn't there at the moment, probably had been in another greenhouse for his last lesson, so Caiti pulled out her wand to check the soil on her own. He'd taught her a charm to help gauge if the plant needed water or not. She'd checked earlier that day, so she didn't anticipate anything having changed, but it made her feel better to be caring for the plant in some kind of way.

Everything was fine. The light was set properly, the soil was plenty moist... everything seemed to be in order, which meant there was nothing for her to do.

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