VIOLET (A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction)

7.

Caiti hadn't broken down and talked to Sean yet, mostly because she didn't know what to ask. She had read three of the thirty seven books in the past week, though, and was becoming increasingly frustrated that she was spending all of her time on herbology and transfiguration when what she was good at was making potions.

It was a relief, therefore, when Saturday afternoon rolled around, and Caiti had to pause her investigations to do something she knew how to do.

She made two different potions for Marlowe — one to help with the joint pain and one for the nausea — because if he was going to play, he needed to be able to eat something. Marlowe insisted he wasn't going to play. Eddie Walters was scheduled to come back to practice that day, and Marlowe was sure he'd be put in the following day. Even if Marlowe did play, if the match ran long, there was a chance he'd be taken out early so he could go home and take his potion. There was a cutoff he had discussed when he'd negotiated his contract, a time he wouldn't work later than on those days so he wasn't risking anyone's safety.

Caiti thought Marlowe would at least start the game though. Walters had been away all week recovering. How likely was it that they'd throw him in like that without time to get back in the swing of things?

Sure enough, when she showed up at his house on Sunday morning, Marlowe was looking particularly gray faced, and she just knew. "Caiti, I'm panicking," he said.

"They're putting you in?" she asked, taking a seat beside him at the kitchen table. He had his hands wrapped around a glass of water.

He nodded. "I feel like shit."

"Well, take these," Caiti said, passing two bottles over to him. "I have more, so if you want to take more later, if it starts to wear off... you can take it again every four hours."

Marlowe nodded again, but that was all.

"You're going to be fine," Caiti said, putting a hand on his knee. "You'll do great."

Marlowe uncapped one of the bottles. "How much do I take?" he asked.

Caiti got up to get him a glass. "About half a cup of each," she said. She poured him some and slid the cup over.

"Thanks," said Marlowe weakly. He drank both one after the other, and then he sat forward and put his head in his hands.

"I'm gonna fuck this up so bad."

"You're not," said Caiti. She scooted her chair a little closer and rubbed his back. "You're not."

"Look at my hands," he said, sitting up again. "They're shaking."

"Marlowe."

"And I've got an awful headache. I can't even see straight."

"Marlowe," Caiti said again.

"I can't do this. It was going to be bad enough just sitting there. And it's an away game, so there'll be an actual crowd."

"Marlowe, look at me."

Her voice came out more forcefully than she'd intended. He looked her straight in the eye.

"You're going to be fine," she said again. "You're a good player. They know what today is and they're still choosing you over anyone else. You can get through this."

Marlowe stared at her. She couldn't tell if he believed her or not.

"It's a couple of hours. That's all."

"Can you come to the game?" Marlowe asked.

Caiti felt a telltale prickle behind her eyes. She had been afraid he would ask her to come. "I can't," she said, forehead creasing. "I have to make four batches of the wolfsbane potion for tonight. Your match doesn't start until three."