VIOLET (A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction)

23.

Over the next several weeks, Caiti worked night and day. Marlowe still went and visited her in the greenhouse almost every day, but he didn't stay as long as he had before, only because he felt like the distraction wasn't as welcome as it had been when she had felt stuck.

When she was there, she really was in the zone. At least a few nights a week, she would come over when she needed a break from thinking about it all and every time she would try her best to explain what she was doing, what she thought she'd understood, but she never really seemed to be able to get the words out.

"I don't know how to explain it," she'd said the other night. "It's just intuitive. I'm just sort of feeling it out. It just feels like what I'm doing is on the right track."

Any attempt she made at getting more detailed than this went over Marlowe's head anyway. He didn't understand potion making like Caiti did.

He collected her another little bottle of venom at the full moon, and the look of excitement that flashed through her eyes as she thanked him made the still less than pleasant experience worth it. She hadn't shown that before. She'd been grateful. He'd always believed that. But she'd been so worried about him. He didn't want to be a hindrance to what she was doing. He didn't want her to feel like she had to tip-toe around his feelings.

Near the end of November, Caiti showed up earlier than usual. It was lucky really that he was home. He'd taken to spending extra time at the field, training or working out on his own. He really wanted to push himself during the off season, to come back stronger than ever. This would be his third season on a rookie contract, his last opportunity to get a permanent position on the team, and he was determined to make the best of it.

In the beginning, Marlowe had thought that he might try to move to a better team when his contract was up, after he'd proven himself a little, gotten some professional experience. He didn't want that anymore. Winning no longer mattered all that much. It was himself he wanted to outdo.

He'd been thinking about all this when Caiti arrived all the sudden. It was very, very cold out that day — the reason he had stayed home — and her cheeks and nose were pink.

"Marlowe," she said quickly, her eyes all bright. "I think I figured it out."

All thoughts of quidditch dropped right out of his head.

"What?"

"I think I figured it out," she said again. "I think I did. I think it'll work."

Marlowe didn't know what to say. Caiti had always maintained that this would take her years and years to develop if she even managed it at all. Marlowe had always privately agreed, not because he didn't think she was capable, but because it seemed like such a big task.

"How do you know?" he asked finally.

"I don't know," she said. She unzipped her coat, dropping it over the arm of the living room chair where his and his mum's already were. "I have no idea, actually. I just think it will. I just have this gut feeling."

She started pacing back and forth, talking a mile a minute about the conversation she'd just had with her mentor Alora and about how she'd brewed something with her there to watch, so she'd have extra eyes to see what she was seeing, to talk through it all with her.

"Marlowe," she said, standing still for the first time since she'd come in. "The way it reacted. It just..." She didn't seem to have words to describe whatever had happened, but it must have been promising, because Caiti was all lit up.

"It was what you were hoping for?" Marlowe prompted.

"Better," Caiti whispered. She dropped down onto the couch, put her hands on the sides of her face, staring wide eyed down at the table. "Alora thinks we can send it to peer review in another few weeks," she said. "We could be ready to start real tests by February."