LUNAR (A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction)

7. Harvest Moon

Marlowe felt exceptionally ill. There was no game that afternoon, which he was grateful for, but he still had training, and no one was willing to except a full moon night as an excuse, no matter how awful Marlowe felt.

He suffered his way through his daily workout and did his best to exhibit good form when the assistant coach pulled all the beaters to work on their swing, but every time he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror or the reflection in the window, he saw he looked pale and drawn and tired. There were bags under his eyes, his hands shook ever so slightly, and he felt more nauseous with every swing.

When it was finally time to leave, Marlowe changed and packed up his things in two minutes flat, offered nothing whatsoever to his teammates in the way of a goodbye, and disapparated.

"Hi sweetheart," said his mum the moment he arrived home. She was sitting at the kitchen table with her work spread all around her. Her home office moved all over the place depending on the day of the week. "You want something to eat?"

Marlowe shook his head and headed straight to his bedroom. After a very brief shower, he curled up his bed and tried not to notice the way his joints ached and how he could feel his heartbeat in each of his sore muscles.

His mum appeared not long after he had laid down, as she usually did. She smoothed back his wet hair and pressed her hand to his forehead. "Not feeling well?" she asked.

"No," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Can I get you anything? A glass of water or some ice or something?"

"It's okay," he said. He swallowed.

"It'll be nice to see Caiti, tonight, though won't it?"

"Yeah," he said. "For a minute."

She rubbed his back, like she had done when he was small and couldn't sleep, and he shut his eyes. His mum amazed him at each full moon, the way she did not freak out, the way she took in her stride something that, as a muggle, should have been so far out of her comfort zone.

He had not forgotten the way she tiptoed around him when he had first been in the hospital earlier that year until he had pointed it out to her, but ever since he had said that what he really needed was for her not to be afraid of him, she hadn't been. It was his dad, for whom the concept of a werewolf was not a total surprise, who was still struggling with it. They didn't talk all that much. His mum, on the other hand, had become his best friend.

She did not push and she did not ask too many questions, she gave good advice, and she was patient. She listened, in the rare occasion that Marlowe wanted to talk. She was kind and she made him feel normal, like Caiti did. She made him feel like things had not changed without pretending they hadn't. She made him laugh.

Around the time that the sky began to darken, Caiti arrived. Marlowe heard the telltale whoosh of the fireplace as someone arrived by floo powder. "Should I have her come down here?" asked his mum, but Marlowe pushed himself up, winced as his low back tweaked.

"No, it's okay," he said. "I'll go."

He made him way back down the hall to the living room where Caiti was brushing herself off. Her face lit up when she saw him. She set down the flask she carried and met him at the edge of the hall and gave him a big hug.

"Hey," said Marlowe, trying to muster up a little positive energy.

"Hi," she smiled.

He gave her a light kiss on the lips and then let go so he could take his potion. It was best fresh. He drained it all in one gulp because having to go back in for a second sip after the initial taste was much more difficult. When it was empty, his mum was already waiting with a glass of water.