ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction

Twenty Five. Another First Day.

The morning after Marlowe's return, Caiti awoke feeling more cheerful than she had in weeks. She spent a few extra minutes primping in front of the mirror before she made her way down to the great hall for breakfast. Marlowe was already there, sitting across from Sean and Evelyn and her stomach flipped around with a pleasant sort of nervousness. It was all so wonderfully familiar, the sight of the back of his dark-haired head, and next to him an open place, always left for her. She sat herself down as usual, placing one hand on his shoulder for balance as she stepped over the bench. For the first time, she was able to feel his scar right through his clothes; it unnerved her, but she shook it off and kissed him on the cheek. "Good morning," she said.

He looked at her and his expression was not exactly happy and not exactly unhappy. He looked away again. His plate was empty.

Caiti glanced up at Sean and he checked that Marlowe was not looking before he mouthed 'nervous.' She translated her understanding only through a slight pinching of the outer corners of her eyes and a tightening of her lips.

No one knew what to say. Evelyn and Sean kept shooting each other looks like they were daring one another to try and make conversation first. Caiti, who had been sitting with her hands folded in her lap, lifted her hands suddenly, half-glanced at Marlowe, and then began to spoon some eggs onto her plate. Her cheerful attitude was evaporating quickly. It was proving much more difficult than she had anticipated to bounce back to their usual routine.

"D'you... d'you want some eggs?" she asked.

He muttered "Sure," in a resigned kind of way. His mouth barely opened. She thought he looked a bit green. She hesitated before she spooned him a healthy serving. Marlowe picked up his fork and considered his plate a while.

Then Amelia exhibited her worst timing yet. In the weeks since the attack, she had decided that Marlowe's condition had made him far more interesting than a silly school champion and had lost all interest in Sean at once. She slid onto the bench next to Marlowe, slamming into his side, as if no time had passed since the beginning of the school year, as if the debacle with Sean had never occurred, let alone everything Marlowe had been dealing with for the last month.

"Hey!" she said loudly. Perhaps the worst thing about Amelia, Caiti thought, having lived with her for nearly six years now, was that her voice carried and made it impossible to ignore her.

Caiti saw Marlowe stiffen as Amelia continued. "I'm soooooooooo glad you're back," she said. "It's like... so weird without you here you know? Like, where's Marlowe? But anyway, everyone was so sweet to me, because they all knew how close we were. Hey, did you hear how the last quidditch match went? Bit of a mess wasn't it? Good thing you're back. But at least we won. Right? Right?" Her lipstick was a brighter red than ever and not applied particularly well.

She waited a moment for a response from Marlowe, but when he remained stiff as a board next to her, jaw clenched, and fork gripped too tightly in his fist, she continued to talk.

"Hey, what's it like being a werewolf?" she asked. Caiti's head snapped to her left, eyes wide and round and saucers. She willed Amelia not to go on - this was a huge mistake. But Amelia, as proven by her persistence with the wedding invitations, was oblivious to social cues. "Did you bite anyone?" she asked.

The entire room went silent. Caiti's hand flew to her mouth. Marlowe stood at once, banging into the table, and he stalked out of the room. The glasses shook, Sean's sloshing over the side and soaking the tablecloth.

Caiti picked up both her bag and Marlowe's, which he had left behind, and climbed back over the bench. She rounded on Amelia. "Really nice, Amelia." she said. Her voice was low and it shook. "Really sensitive." And then she ran out of the room, all too aware of everyone's eyes on her as she shoved through the double doors and out into the corridor.

Marlowe had not gone far. She saw him at the top of the marble staircase with his forehead pressed into the stone wall. Caiti climbed up to him, dropped the bags on the floor and put her hand on his back. He turned around and opened his mouth to say something, but Caiti wrapped her arms around him tight and did not say a word. She refused to let it bother her that his hands on her back were almost perfunctory. She knew he did not really mind, or he would have pulled away.

It was almost ten minutes before she let go of him. A trickle of students had already begun to leave the great hall.

"Thanks," said Marlowe quietly. They made eye contact and her heart beat very fast. His face looked so worn down and tired, and worst of all, hurt. She did not know what to tell him

She stood there staring at him with her lips parted and a breath held in for thirty seconds before she said, "That was... absolute crap."

Marlowe actually cracked a smile, though admittedly tiny, and relief swept through Caiti in an instant. He reached for her and kissed her on the forehead as he pulled her back into his arms. This time, his grip on her was much more firm. She turned her face to the side, ear to his chest, and said. "Don't you dare to listen to her, okay? She's a complete idiot."

"I know that," he said.

Caiti squeezed him a little tighter. "Marlowe, " she said. "I'm really glad you're back."

She felt his fingers catch in the ends of her hair. He didn't say anything. She knew he didn't totally agree. But that was okay. It would get better. She knew it would.

The trickle of people had picked up now. More and more pairs of feet were walking past them and Caiti was sure everyone was stopping to look at them. They fell apart again. Caiti stepped back and picked up his bag. "Here... you left this," she said.

"Right. Thanks." He reached for the bag.

"Well... we should probably..." Caiti said, bending over to grab her own bag.

"Class, yeah," said Marlowe.

"If you want... we could go to the library after class. No one usually comes to our table."

He nodded. "Okay."

Caiti turned to go, hoisting her bag up onto her shoulder.

"Caiti," he said. Her stomach flipped and she turned around again. He took a step towards her and put his hand on her cheek. His thumb brushed once over her temple before he kissed her.

Following the events of that morning, Marlowe did not have high hopes for his first day back. In defense against the dark arts, though it was his favorite subject and one he was usually engaged and vocal in, he sat with his head down and took good notes, but did not say a word or even look at Professor Mason.

He felt eyes on his back and the people in front of him actually turned around to look at him a few times, making eyes at each other as they faced front again.

But no real problem arose until he and Sean were seated in a history of magic. The class was very small at N.E.W.T. level - only eight of their year remained. Leaving his book closed in his bag, Marlowe slumped down in his seat and crossed his arms.

"Wanna play hangman?" asked Sean in a low voice when Professor Binns began to lecture.

Marlowe nodded, only because he did not want to make Sean feel that things had changed. Sean pulled a page from his notebook and began scratching out lines for each of the letters. And that was when a voice behind him hissed "Oi! Finnegan."

It was Allan McNab, a Slytherin, and perhaps the only one in the class who actually found the subject halfway interesting.

Marlowe knew he wouldn't have anything good to say and he certainly wasn't going to take the bait. He did not turn around. McNab was not deterred.

"How come you didn't answer 'er question?" he asked. Marlowe could hear the grin in his voice. There was nothing McNab loved more than an easy target to taunt. He was lanky and insubstantial, much unlike his big, burly friend Mullins, who Marlowe knew from Quidditch. He was almost more dangerous though.

Where Mullins had no problem knocking down first years in the corridors when no Professors were looking, or sticking his leg out to trip someone passing by in the great hall, McNab's strength was in his head. He enjoyed watching people trying to ignore his snide remarks until they blew up.

The worst part was that he was subtle, so good at hiding what he was doing that he never got in trouble for anything.

"Ignore it," muttered Sean.

McNab went on. "We all want to know the answer Wolfy. Bit anyone lately?" His voice was like an irritating whistle in Marlowe's ear; the harder he tried to ignore it, the more it seemed to be the only thing his brain would focus on.

Binns continued to lecture them on the establishment of international magical trade and transport laws and the illegal underground trade system that emerged in protest. He did not seem to know that only Marlowe was looking at him. Each of his other students was staring between Marlowe and McNab.

Marlowe reached into his bag and removed his notebook, quill, and ink. He opened to a fresh page and began to copy down, in meticulous, neat handwriting, much unlike his usual scrawl, what Binns was saying. Word for word. He did not retain anything any of the ideas. It was all just individual words, strung together into nonsensical sentences. All he really heard was McNab, still asking over and over again whether Marlowe had bitten anyone.

"Come on," he said in a slow, irritating voice. "I bet everyone would like to know. And anyway if you're so reluctant to tell us... probably means you did have yourself a taste."

Marlowe bit down hard. His hand shook horribly on the paper. His quill, pressed firmly into the paper, left little scratches around the place it was jammed into the table, ruining his pristine notes.

"That's right. Seems you've admitted it wolfy. Finnegan's had himself a little taste. And I'll bet he wants some more. Thought he'd come back to school and get easy access. Who do you think he'll go for next? Think he'll take out targets for people if you pay 'im?" McNab chuckled at his own sick joke and Sean gave Marlowe a warning look, but it was almost too late.

It had been a mistake to come back here. A terrible, huge mistake.

"You know what I'll bet? He came back for that girl, little blondie. She's your sister, isn't she, O'Connell? School champion's sister," he said. "Bet you'd like a piece of her, Finnegan."

Marlowe had had it. He slammed his hands down on the table and pushed himself to stranding. His quill, still in his hand, broke in two, and he knocked over his ink bottle. Sean whipped out his wand and muttered "Reparo," and then "Scourgify," rectifying the damage and the mess. But Marlowe already had his bag over his shoulder. His face, he knew, was a deep red. He was boiling, perspiration had begun to drip from his hairline at once. His stomach twisted around with something acidic.

"I have not," he said. His voice was low and almost faint. He could barely get the words out. For the second time that day, he stormed out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Behind the door, Professor Binns finally seemed to have realized that something had been going on, because he stopped talking abruptly. Then the door opened again and Sean slipped out.

"Really, boy," called Professor Binns. "There are still forty five minutes of class. Where are you all going?"

Sean shut the door quietly and then stood there, holding Marlowe's ink, quill, and notebook, which had been left at the desk. He looked quite at a loss for what to say.

"Please go away," said Marlowe in a thin voice. Hot tears were beginning to prick in his eyes and he did not want Sean to see him cry.

McNab had hit at what was maybe the most sensitive part of his predicament - that in saving Caiti, Marlowe might have only prolonged the danger she had been in for a matter of minutes that night.

He'd been wrong of course. Marlowe would never have hurt her voluntarily. The thought of biting her - purposely or accidentally - made him want to be sick. And McNab had forced him to confront that fear, one he had not really let himself consider yet. He was terrified to think what he would do if he accidentally hurt her, if she got too close while he was dangerous, if something went wrong with the potion, as it was proven could happen.

He couldn't stop thinking how it would feel to wake up as himself again and to realize what he'd done.

For the first time, Marlowe felt sorry for Mr. Fenwick.

He swallowed hard. Sean was still standing just outside the classroom door, watching him like he was a bomb about to go off. But Marlowe didn't feel angry anymore. He felt scared and defeated and more than a little frightened of himself.

"That was a... a really messed up thing to say," said Sean.

"It wasn't," said Marlowe. His voice was very dry.

"You would never do that," said Sean.

"I wouldn't," said Marlowe. "But..."

"It'll be fine."

"And what if it's not?" snapped Marlowe. "What if I don't have the potion? What if it's messed up? I don't think you get it, Sean. Without that, I can't control myself. Without that, I'm not myself."

Sean seemed to know that Marlowe did not want to talk about it anymore so he kept quiet. Marlowe appreciated this. Sean's ability to read people was one of his best qualities. It was what made him so considerate. Still, he was glad Sean was there. He found again that he was more scared of being left alone than he was of admitting how scared he was to his friends.

"Come on," said Sean after a minute. "Let's just go up to the common room."

"We've still got another class," said Marlowe, with a sinking feeling in his stomach. To sit through one more lesson that day would have been torture.

"So we'll skip it," said Sean. Marlowe thought he could actually see the physical pain that idea caused his friend. Sean had never skipped a class voluntarily in all his time at Hogwarts.

"Go to class, Sean. You'll regret it if you skip."

"Maybe. But I'll regret it more if I leave you alone like a crap friend. Let's go. Don't argue."

Caiti leaned against the wall outside the library, holding her bag by the handle so it rested on the floor. Her shoulder ached from carrying it. She had almost gone inside to wait for him like usual, but on second thought, she had thought he might not want to walk through the library alone so she waited outside.

He showed up ten minutes after she arrived looking shifty and uncomfortable. He was not carrying his school bag.

"Didn't you guys get any assignments today?" she asked, frowning at him as he approached.

"Couldn't focus," said Marlowe. "Can we go somewhere else?"

"Of course," she said. She took up her bag again and stepped towards him. They began to walk. She got the feeling Marlowe was no more clear where he was headed than she was.

"How was- how was your day?" she asked. She started to reach for his hand before she realized they were stuffed into his pockets again.

"I'd rather not talk about it," he said.

"Okay. Then let's... let's talk about something else," said Caiti. She glanced up at him twice. The second time, she just watched him, which was dangerous because her track record for walking and not looking where she was going was not great.

She misjudged the corner they were rounding and ran into the wall. Marlowe stopped to make sure she was fine. He left his hand on her shoulder and it felt different than it ever had. This was not the easy way he'd always had of looping his arm around her. It felt protective, maybe even a little territorial. When Caiti readjusted her bag on her shoulder, he reached over and took it from her without a word. She thought he might make a joke about it, but he didn't.

A few minutes later, he found an empty classroom and, with a slightly increased pressure on her upper back, he steered her inside.

Peeves had obviously been here recently because there were a few rude remarks written on the blackboard. Caiti went to erase them while Marlowe placed her bag on the nearest chair. When she turned back around, he was sitting on the edge of a desk watching her. His face was impassive. She felt nervous again, like she had that morning. They stared at each other for a few seconds until Caiti, feeling uncomfortable, looked down and said. "Stop acting weird. It's just me."

"C'mere," he said. Half seated and half standing as he was, he was at eye level with her when she reached him. But then he just stared at her again.

Caiti started to laugh a little nervous laugh. "Stop," she said through her giggles. "Why are you staring at me?"

Marlowe finally smiled. "Sorry. It's just been... I mean, honestly, today sucked. I still don't want to talk about it. But you're pretty. And that doesn't suck like everything else."

Caiti narrowed her eyes at him. "You're weird. Don't be sappy."

Marlowe grabbed one of her hands and traced over the narrow bones running up to her fingers with his thumb. "D'you know Allan McNab?"

"Of him," she said. He had raised goosebumps all over her arms.

"He said some things today... in response to Amelia's comment this morning."

He paused and Caiti's eyes flicked up to his. It kept surprising her that he was here and she felt her cheeks heat up when they made eye contact.

"He was saying-" But Marlowe stopped. He looked up at the ceiling and his thumb stopped it's little circles on the back of her hand.

"You don't have to say it," she said quietly.

"I can't."

"Okay," she said. "So don't." He nodded, and lowered his gaze again. She put her hands on his shoulders and gave them a little squeeze. He was very tense. She turned her head to look outside.

"Caiti?" he asked. It was already going dark outside the window. She could only see a bit of the grounds behind a flat blackness, not yet the deep black of night, but darker than dusk.

"Mmhmm?"

"Did you want to talk about it?" he asked. She knew what 'it' meant although he didn't explain any further. This was the big 'it,' not today's 'it' - this was about the whole thing, what had happened, what he'd done for her.

"Yes," she said at once. "But if you aren't ready to, let's not."

"Okay, let's not," he said. He sounded relieved, but she wasn't. She didn't want to push him, but she felt like there was too much hanging over them right now.

"Okay," she said. And she clasped her hands behind his neck, crossed her fingers, and hoped he would change his mind soon.

"Listen," she said after another few minutes had passed.. "Maybe it was a sucky day, but... it doesn't have to be all bad. I've waited a month to see you. Let's do something fun."

"Like what?" he asked. He sounded tired, but she wasn't ready to let him pull the 'early to bed' card again. She'd waited a month and still had not heard him laugh.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, poking him in the stomach.

He recoiled. "Ouch."

"Yes or no?"

"I mean, yeah."

"Alright, let's go," she said, straightening up. She grabbed his hand and pulled, but he did not stand.

"No, everyone'll be in the great hall at this time."

"God, not there," she said, wrinkling her nose. "The kitchens."

Marlowe eyed her for a minute. By the little quirk up of one side of his mouth, he was clearly trying to make an effort to be less miserable. "Sold," he said.

She tugged on his hand again and this time, he stood. She was glad he did not look out the window, because, at a last glance outside on their way out the door, she saw the moon, waning, but still distinctly round, and she had a hunch he would have started acting weird again if he knew.

He looped his arm over her shoulders again, much more familiar and pleasant now. "I feel bad keeping you from doing your work," he said.

"Please don't," she said. "There is nothing I'd rather do less."

They chattered aimlessly as they made their way down several flights of stairs. Finally, he seemed to be letting go of at least a little bit of the stress he'd been carrying around with him all day. Caiti had a feeling the sudden release had to do more with the fact she had agreed to put off a difficult conversation than with them going to get food, but she was too emotionally exhausted to let it bother her. It was easy to make witty remarks about the portraits they passed and listen to him talk for the first time since he'd been back.

As they neared the great hall, which they had to pass by to reach the staircase to the basement, the number of students they encountered began to pick up. Caiti began to fear that he would close off again so when, standing at the top of the marble staircase, she saw the door to the great hall open, she pulled him into a little cubby in the wall behind a suit of armor. It was not very large. "What are we-" said Marlowe, but Caiti clapped her hand over his mouth and put her finger to her lips. She glanced past the suit of armor. They were not particularly well concealed, but she was more interested in making a game out of it than in really hiding. When the people had passed, she grabbed his hand and slid back out from behind and they continued on their way.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"We're on a mission," said Caiti, giving him a look like this was obvious. "Can't be stopping for weather chats, now can we?"

Marlowe gave her a look like she was crazy, but when, halfway down the stairs to the basement, they heard footsteps at the top, he picked up his pace and they ran down the rest of the steps at top speed before jumping behind the corner. They flattened themselves against the wall, side by side. Caiti looked up at him with a bright, open mouthed smile on her face as they waited for the people to be gone. There was no question they had been seen this time. But Marlowe had gone along with her game and that was all she cared about.

Once the coast was clear, Caiti peeled herself off the wall, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly. "Nailed it," she said. "They didn't even know we were there."

Marlowe laughed out loud and they headed for the painting that marked the entrance to the kitchen. He tickled the pear and then he tried to tickle Caiti, but she saw it coming and grabbed both his hands to trap them. "Nice try," she said smugly, and she let go of him and walked inside.