Of clothes and nightmares
Sirius Black looks young in his Dreamless Sleep potion induced sleep. Younger anyway. His age, Eva realizes. For he is not actually as old as she perceives him to be. He is still a young man, only thirty-five years of age. They all are thirty-five; Sirius, Remus, her, Severus. A generation of old souls in battered bodies. It sounds melodramatic but that's how Eva feels. Sometimes she even forgets she isn't a sixty-year old. She is still young enough to get married, have children, buy a dog. It never even crosses her mind.
Sirius sleeps unaware of her musings. His features had softened in his sleep and his accusing haunted eyes are hidden under his eyelids. A strand of black hair sticks to his feverish forehead. He looks like a boy. Eva turns away from the sight abruptly. Something rises in her chest threatening to erupt but she pushes it down.
A movement in her periphery at the other wall of the darkened bedroom startles her and she gasps in fear before realizing it is her own reflection. She closes her eyes and tries to settle her racing heart. There is something weird about her reflection and as she approaches slowly she can see that the mirror is broken. She wonders why anyone would leave it broken and not use Reparo on it. She examines the lines and traces their paths to where they all congregate. A few pieces are missing there and the surrounding ones have specks of blood on them. She has no doubt that it was Sirius' fist that did the damage. If she closes her eyes she can almost see it happen. She doesn't judge. She knows how it is, not wanting to see your own face. Despite this she examines her reflection in the mirror. Her face looks distorted where the lines cross. It seems almost fitting. Her eyes are dull, washed out as they always are. Her hair is greasy and limp, her forehead has a layer of unwashed sweat over it, her lips are cracked, her cheeks hollow and her eyelids swollen. The petechiae under her eyes tell a story of continuous alcohol abuse. It is one ugly picture.
Of course it doesn't help that she has been suffering through the magical flu for the last week. She hasn't really been washing up or eating. Actually she has done nothing but sleep and suffer through feverish nightmares and hallucinations. Thankfully she cannot remember much of her nightmares. Oh, there are all the usual suspects as she has enough material to last her a lifetime of night terrors but the details escape her conscious mind. One scene stays with her though.
She dreams of Johnathan and that surprises her. She cannot think of anything that would provoke that. She hasn't been thinking about him. It doesn't mean she doesn't remember him every once in a while. But she got over him a long time ago. She got over what he did. She talked about it, screamed in apoplectic rage and cried out her heart over it. And she let go of the anger and guilt. She has forgiven him. Hasn't she? She hasn't had dreams about him since she was a schoolgirl. Although they are not the same horrifying nightmares she used to wake up from in cold sweat. Those are simple dreams. All she can see is an impish smile on his youthful face as he leans through the doorway. There is nothing sinister about that smile. Nothing foreboding. Nothing sorrowful. No emotions to tell, he is about to ruin all of their lives. And that's all that stays with her when the rest of her dreams fade away; Johnathan's smile.
Eva really hopes that Johnathan will disappear along with the illness. She has been hit really hard with the flu, mostly due to the fact that she has been in denial about it for days. When she should already be resting, she kept pushing through, ignoring her symptoms and downing Pepper-up potions which was counterproductive in actually healing the flu and only prolonged the recovering period. When it all came after her, she was out of commission for a week. She would actually still be in her bed if not for Remus' Patronus.
"Come now! Order headquarters. Healer Emergency!"
She makes a mental note to kick Remus in the shin the next time she sees him. Healer Emergency to her meant: come now, someone is bleeding to death, no time to change out of your pyjamas. So she has jumped out of her messy bed, a bout of dizziness hitting her so hard she nearly collapsed back into her bed. She downed a Pepper-up, knowing it will set her recovery further back, but if there was an emergency she needed a clear head. And an ability to stand on her feet. She took a second to throw her hair into a messy unwashed ponytail, grabbed her medical bag and was out of her door. She hadn't even thought about brushing her teeth, much less showering or changing her days old clothes.
"Sirius has the flu. He is really bad off. I can't be here. Mission for the Order."
Remus Lupin was out of the door before she had even managed to splutter indignantly. Oh, he was going to get it when she got her hands on him. Magical flu was a truly terrible and disgusting disease. Eva wouldn't wish it on anyone. And she would not even consider leaving a patient on their own as the hallucinations were pretty severe and someone needed to administer potions and fluids. (She conveniently ignores the fact that she herself has stubbornly refused to contact anyone in that regard.) But this was not a -drop what you are doing, no time to put socks on- healer emergency. No, this was a -shower, put on a bra, brush your teeth and come soon- un-emergency.
Eva averts her eyes from the revolting sight in the mirror and examines the rest of her body. The sight is not much better. Her bare feet are stuffed into a pair of dirty pink trainers, that are rubbing uncomfortably at her ankles. The thin beige t-shirt clings to her every curve and accentuates her nipples that are protruding through the thin cloth. Her black leggings had also seen better days. There is a hole on her right knee and although she cannot see it, she knows the worn fabric that stretches across her arse is see-through. She has worn those clothes for Merlin knows how many days and the smell of stale sweat makes her gag. Really, Marlowe, was it worth it? Was it worth it not calling anyone? Are you proud for braving this herself? Is there pride in wallowing in your own filth? Self-reflection is a bitch. But there is nowhere to hide from it; fully awake and nothing to distract her.
She needs a shower. And a change of clothes. And a toothbrush. Urgently. Before the Pepper-up loses its effects. She knows her energy will drain then and she will put all her efforts into helping Sirius. She takes stock of the bedroom which is a total mess of dirty clothes, linens, letters, broken artefacts, mouldy dishes and empty bottles. There is a pile of blankets on the floor at the far corner of the bedroom, oddly bunched up and then flattened against the floor. She grits her teeth and tries not think about why it is there. If she gives it too much thought, she may just shatter into tiny pieces. The only thing that looks clean and neat is the bed Eva has made a few minutes ago and the person sleeping in it soundly. She knows he will sleep peacefully for a few hours after the potions she gave him.
Her first instinct is to start cleaning the room but the gesture seems too personal and domestic. She doesn't mind taking care of him, doesn't mind giving him medicine, taking his temperature, making him tea, changing his bed and his clothes. It all falls into realm of healing and nursing a patient. But cleaning his room seems different. So she lets it be. She makes a note to get rid of those mouldy dishes, though. She wrinkles her nose in disgust.
Shower first though.
An hour later she stands in front of the mirror in the bathroom down the hall from Sirius' bedroom. She feels much better after she has scrubbed the dirt of her body and shampooed her hair three times. She looks better too as the mirror comments. She is not ugly, not really. She knows that. With some effort she can make herself downright beautiful. Puts some make-up on, uses foundation to hide her marred skin, balsam on her lips, ice to reduce the swelling of her eyes and curls her hair just so. But she knows that it doesn't really matter as at the end of the day as her make-up washes off, her hair will have no lush and her eyes will still be dead.
Tired of her own face, she turns away, grabbing a pile of dirty clothes from the floor. She Scourgifies them a few times but soon declares them a lost cause. She would rather parade around in the towel she is currently wrapped in than put those clothes back on. Barefoot and shivering she runs down the hallway, nervously glancing around. But the house seems utterly abandoned. Not even Kreacher has made his presence known. Sirius sleeps in the same position she has left him and Eva breathes a sigh of relief.
In quest to find some clean clothes she approaches Sirius wardrobe. This feels very personal too but there is no way she is putting those disgusting clothes back onto her showered body. She shivers in disgust. His wardrobe is as messy as his bedroom but at least clothes in there seem clean. She blindly reaches into the closet, trying to find something she likes to the touch. Finally, she pulls out something cashmere like. The grey sweater feels like heaven to her cold body as she pulls it over hear head. She runs her palms over the fabric down the sides of her torso. Just as she is about to try her luck again in search of some pants, she takes notice of a discoloured stain on the sleeve. She brings her hand closer to her face to identify the stain, hoping it is not something disgusting.
"Why are you wearing my sweater?"
"What are you talking about? You gave it to me because I was cold. Remember, after I was forced to sit on the pavement for two hours in the middle of nowhere so you could fix that bloody bike of yours!"
"That was yesterday!"
"I am still cold."
"Well, maybe you wouldn't be cold if you didn't stuff your face with ice-cream! In my sweater. You are going to ruin it!"
"I am not going to ruin your precious- Oh, oops?"
"Eva!"
"I'll just take it off. You do like it best when I take my clothes off."
Eva practically rips the sweater off her body in panic. She throws it into the closet and slams the door with force, (like something is about to escape), leaning her forehead on it and trying to control her gasps. Of all the bloody sweaters! She gives up on wearing Sirius' clothes right away. Anything she pulls out of the closet is bound to come with a story attached. And she can't take it. If she lets the nostalgia take over… She will not survive the fall back into reality.
She pushes the memory away and leaves the bedroom, hardly glancing at Sirius. Next room she comes upon is Regulus'. She is not sure this is any better but at least she is certain she never wore any of his clothes. Regulus' room is completely different then Sirius' and is apparent that Kreacher still takes care of it. There is not a single sock out of order and it looks like Regulus was here just yesterday. Like just yesterday he returned from Hogwarts. His room is a room of a school boy. Another child she has failed. Merlin, she really shouldn't be this stone cold sober for this.
She opens his closet to find his school uniforms and robes dangling from the hangers. She runs her hand over the sleeve of a black robe as a silky green and silver tie slips through her fingers and pools at her feet. She stares at the tie for who knows how long, seeing his long fingers fidgeting with the knot at his throat as he sits opposite her at the library table, a rare mischievous smile playing at his lips.
"Green would look good on you, Marlowe. Want to try it on? I would love to see a look on my brother's face. He is sure to blow a gasket."
She leaves the room quietly. Still in her towel. At this point she is contemplating just leaving it at that. There is still one option left and though it revolts her to put on anything that woman has worn, she still enters Walburga Black's room. Much like Regulus' this room seems to be waiting for its mistress return. Her wardrobe is full of clean robes in different colours and materials, one more extravagant then the other. Eva can't see how anyone could be comfortable in those. She finally settles on a silky white thing that falls down to her ankles. It looks like the only comfortable garment in the closet. By many ruffles and see-through material, Eva figures this was what served as night wear. Over it she pulls a deep purple velvet robe. The least garish she can find. She forgoes the underwear; she has to draw the line somewhere. She feels strange. Like she is some other person. Still barefoot, she leaves the room as soon as possible. She can only imagine the scene if Kreacher found her in this room.
Once again in Sirius' bedroom, she braves his chest of drawers to secure herself a nice thick pair of socks. She then banishes the dirty dishes, goes to the kitchen to make tea, drags herself back up the stairs as the Pepper-up starts to lose its potency and then settles herself by Sirius' bedside into an armchair she has transfigured from the hard wooden chair.
The armchair becomes her home for the next few days. It seems comfortable at first and she dozes right off as the energy drains of her body. She has after all appearated, healed a patient, administered potions, cleaned, showered, made tea and walked up four sets of stairs twice after practically not moving from her bed for a week. It was bound to knock her out.
Waking up with a crick in her neck a few hours later she discovers the armchair to be a torture device. She roughly massages her right shoulder and tries to get her neck to work while considering if it would be a good idea to go get some sleep in a real bed in one of the bedrooms. But the only bedroom on the same floor is Regulus' and she doesn't feel right sleeping there. Besides Sirius might need her.
Just as she comes to a decision to visit the loo and then fold herself back into the armchair, she hears a groan from the bed and figures this was what actually woke her up. She gets up and sits at the edge of the bed to check on her patient. His fever has spiked and he is moaning in his sleep. She looks outside to see that it has gotten considerably darker. It was time for another dose of potions.
"Sirius? Can you hear me?" All she gets in response is another pained groan. "It's me." She whispers, knowing he won't hear her much less respond.
She gives him what she can, a Cough potion, a Fever Reducing potion, Anti-sickness potion and a Nutritional potion. Sadly, she cannot give him any more Dreamless Sleep potion so soon. Eva knows this is the one he could desperately use. Sirius has always been prone to nightmares, even before Azkaban, she remembers. She cannot even imagine what terrors await for him every night in this house he hates, all alone, after everything he has been through. And feverish delusions that come with the disease are bound to make it even worse. She would know. Pity wells up inside her chest like a hot air balloon. She grips the blanket in both of her hands and closes her eyes tightly, breathing and waiting it to pass. Don't break now, Marlowe. When he wakes up everything will go back to normal. He will still hate you. And you will have to be ready for another round. He won't know what you did for him. And he won't care. You can't afford to break.
The next time she wakes up, she knows she hadn't slept for very long. Sirius is trashing in his bed, practically spasming and muttering unintelligible words. She rushes to check up on him but ultimately there is nothing to do but give him a bigger dose of Fever Reducing potion. She can do nothing about his nightmare. His hands search for something only to grip thin air and the only thing she can understand is his best friend's name on his lips. Prongs. She hasn't heard that name in years. And suddenly she misses James so much. She thinks about him of course but mostly she thinks of him as Lily's husband or Harry's dad. But James was her friend, too. And he was a good friend, always there when you needed him, always ready to help you or to cut class with you when you needed a breather, never demanded a reason or an explanation. The most loyal person she has ever met. When James Potter took you under his wing, you had a friend for life. He would die for you and he would kill for you. Oh, to hear his uproarious laugh just once more. Just one more time.
The unexpected rush of emotions leaves her breathless and with a terrible pain in her stomach. She rushes to the bathroom, her knees hitting cold tiled floor but the only thing she vomits is her bile. No surprise, as she cannot remember when she last ate something. Nutritional potion was only supposed to be used on unconscious patients not those that were too lazy to cook. She wows to make something the next day. She cleans herself up and returns to the bedroom where Sirius is still in the midst of his nightmare.
She stands there, between her armchair and his bad, hesitating. Merlin, you will get yourself an ulcer, sooner or later if you don't get away from all this. In the end though, she has promised herself to stop running and as much as she tells herself she shouldn't care, doesn't care, that it is not her business, she cares.
"How can you just stand there and do nothing?" Righteous anger.
"It's not my business." A shrug.
"Not your business?! How can you say that? It is your business! It is everybody's business to stop that! Or what? Do you agree with them? Did you wanted to join them?"
"I don't care one way or another." Another shrug.
"Don't care one way or another?" Incredulous surprise.
"No. I don't care."
"You don't care?"
"Are you deaf? No, I don't care." A fire that has not been there sneaks into her voice.
"What do you care about then?" The redhead's voice has gotten soft and way too old for an eleven-year-old girl.
"Nothing! I care about nothing! Get it through your thick skull, Evans, and stop following me around. We are not friends and I don't care about that either!" The girl's chest heaves when she stops yelling into the other girl's face.
"I don't believe you." The redhead speaks with calm assuredness. "You care. You try not to but you care. No one can just not care."
"Do you know what happens when you care?" The brown haired girl, almost a head taller, looks down upon the other girl with a mix of haughtiness and sorrow. "It is ripped away from you when you least expect it."
"So, you think it's better to just not care from the start?"
"Yes." They are quiet for a while and for the taller of the two this is the end of the longest conversation she has held since the beginning of the school year. The redhead has other plans.
"You are wrong." The conviction in her voice never wavers. "You care. I know you do. And we are friends. And you care about that, too. So, I'm not going to stop following you around as you say. I am going to prove to you, that there are things worth caring for. And one day you are even going to admit that I was right."
"Good luck with that."
Eva can't remember if she ever told her that she was right. It doesn't matter anyway. Lily knew she cared. Lily knew long before Eva admitted it to herself. She admits it now, though. She admits it in this creepy old house, she admits it in the home of some of the darkest wizards in history, she admits it at the bedside of her former lover and friend who despises her for she has left him to rot in prison for twelve years, she admits it after fourteen years of constant pain that never goes away, she admits that she cares. She admits she would suffer through another decade for just one day with Lily. For an hour. For a single moment. Merlin, does she care.
With a deep sigh, she sits at Sirius bedside, putting her palms on his shoulders and pushing him onto the bed, grounding him. It was how she used to deal with his nightmares.
The first few times she was witness to it, she woke him up, tried to talk to him and take care of him but it only resulted in him closing off from her and feeling embarrassed. With time though, she figured out it was more effective if she held onto his shoulders or his hands or his chest so he could feel her weight and talked in calm measured tones just so he heard her voice. He was a deep sleeper and this rarely woke him up. During the first war she has spent many nights like this. Eva has no idea if he knew; he never said anything and she never asked.
Like a charm, at her touch, his body calms but he still calls out for his friend. So she talks.
"Shhh, it's okay. It's alright. You are safe. James is safe. James is okay. They are all okay. You are okay."
And she says it so many times she almost believes it herself. She talks and talks. And Sirius calms down. She knows he probably can't understand her and only reacts to her voice but she continues to reassure him all through the night. She conks out a few times, even returns to her armchair once but mostly murmurs empty nonsense comforts and holds her palm on his chest till it is light out and she can give him another dose of Dreamless Sleep potion. Her armchair is her safe heaven as she passes out in relief.
And that's what her life is for the next three days. Catching naps in her armchair, turned torture device, between administrating potions, using healing charms, changing his cloths and bed, once dragging herself down to the kitchen to cook some soup (four flights of stairs were almost the death of her), maintaining her personal hygiene as to avoid another existential crisis, feeding a temperamental Hippogriff that had made himself known and talking. Mostly it is sitting at his bedside, holding onto Sirius and talking as he cries out, mostly for James and occasionally for Lily or even Harry. She admits to eventually actually being reduced to reciting the list of potion ingredients in Felix Felicis and describing the difference between Calming Draught and the Draught of Peace as to keep herself awake.
On the fourth day though, as Sirius sleeps calmly under the influence of the potion and she has had a reasonably long nap (mostly she cannot stand to sleep another second in that armchair as her whole body aches), boredom strikes. The symptoms of her flu had finally mostly disappeared and she now feels restless. She should go back to work. She realizes she misses it. Healer Aldridge must be going hysterical without her. Since she started working at St Mungo's she has never been absent for more than four days in a row.
Eva itches to escape this house where she is surrounded by everything Sirius. His house, his room, his bedsheets, his clothes, his things, his letters from Harry on the desk, his Gryffindor banners on the wall, his photo albums that she dares not to touch, his shaving cream in the bathroom, the ghosts of his family, his nightmares, his tortured grimace that she cannot escape this close-up, his smell, his breathing and his very presence. There is no escaping him. Nor is there any escaping the memories that keep assaulting her.
But she can't go to work because Sirius still hasn't woken up and he can't be left alone and not one of the Order members has come to check on them. They could have been dead for days and no one would know. She feels reasonably annoyed at this. At least someone could have brought them some food. It is not as if she can get that blasted elf to do anything for her. Selfish bastards!
She knows she is being unreasonable. The Order doesn't have time to babysit them. Furthermore, the flu is contagious so it is smart to stay away. Still, Eva is annoyed. And bored. So bored. Eventually she resorts to cleaning up the room despite the fact that she has initially decided against it. But the state of the room has now reached catastrophic levels as all the surfaces are filled with various empty vials, glasses and mugs and she is tired of avoiding looking at that pile of blankets in the corner and imagining … No!
Grumbling to herself, she eventually descends the stairs to make herself something to eat. Once in the kitchen though, the resolve to actually cook, disappears. She knows, she can't live of Nutritional potions anymore as the next step from vomiting bile is vomiting blood so she searches the kitchen for something edible. She hits bingo with the snack cupboard and piles up the majority of its contents in her arms. She is not about to do another trek to the kitchen if she can avoid it.
Later, while she munches on cookies, chocolate, crisps, peanuts and salty sticks, she writes a response to Harry's very strange and short letter. The letter is written in code so it takes some time deciphering the actual meaning of all the sentences. The overall gist of it is that he begs her to do something to stop Sirius contacting him through their usual way again. She has no idea what that is all about and makes a mental note to ask Sirius, nor does she have any idea why that particular honour has fallen to her. Has he been under the impression that Sirius takes any stock of what she has to say? Despite her reservations, she assures him she will do everything in her power. She tries to not be too abrupt in the letter but even this irritates her. Mostly it irritates her that she cannot read Harry's mood from those few coded sentences. How have they have come to this point where a school boy has to write in coded letters?
She tries doing a crossword in the Daily Prophet but soon gives up. She paces the room for some time all the while sighing heavily to herself. She has no idea how Sirius can stand being cooped-up in this blasted house. She has been here for four days and she is ready to kill somebody. She has nothing to do and what she could do, she has no motive to actually do. She could go and replenish her potions supply but when she thinks about actually getting the cauldrons clean, slicing and dicing the ingredients and standing over the hot cauldron, she suddenly feels exhausted. Instead she once again settles in her armchair, throws a quilt over her body angrily and falls asleep thinking of ways to get Snape to make those potions for her.
In the afternoon Sirius finally starts regaining his consciousness in short fits. The first time he wakes up she is pretty certain he hasn't even recognized her. He babbles something about her eyes burning and lava out to get him and Eva gives him a Fever Reducing potion and a cold compress over his forehead and keeps reassuring him, that no lava can get to him. The next few times he wakes up he seems to recognize her face at least as he keeps asking mumbled questions about what is going on. All her explanations go to waste though as he can't keep his focus long enough to listen to her so she has just taken to muttering soothingly the same thing all over again.
"It's alright. You are ill. Just rest. Just rest."
Every once in a while his eyes, trusting, intense and unguarded, find hers and she is left breathless. Somewhere on the brink of his consciousness, caught in a space where time has no meaning, he has forgotten about his anger, resentment and disgust with her. Instead of embracing it, she closes her own eyes to escape. Her constant companion, her unfathomable guilt, rears its ugly head. She cannot drown in him. He will hate her again tomorrow. As he should after what she did to him.
The night after is the worst one so far. The hours pass excruciatingly slowly as Eva sits at Sirius's bedside, practically leaning her whole upper body weight onto him to keep him from hurting himself in his hallucinations. Her lower back is killing her, her hands shake from exhaustion and her throat is sore by the time he finally falls into deep sleep. She finds her armchair with shaky legs.
Despite her tiredness, she doesn't sleep long. She wakes up at sunrise with Johnathan's face once again etched into her brain. She feels strange. She isn't scared or angry. It just makes her restless. It is like a bad omen. Like a warning of some sort. And she is not one to believe that kind of bollocks. But why now? After so many years?
She watches the sun rise over the London skyline from the window sill until she hears a startled gasp and rushes around the bed. Sirius's eyes are wide open in shock as they follow her every move. At first she thinks it is another one of his hallucinations but she can see that his eyes are clear.
"Sirius?" She asks hesitatingly.
"Marlowe? I thought- Merlin." He first breathes a sigh of relief and then scowls angrily. She braces herself. She knew this was coming. She just thought she might get a few minutes before the fighting started. "What the hell are you wearing? Did you want me to have a heart attack?"
"I- What?" This was not really what she expected. She looks down at herself and realizes her mistake at once. Oh, Merlin. He thought she was his mother. That was… disturbing. "Oh, sorry. I borrowed this from your mother's closet. Hers are the only clothes that-" don't send me into a panic attack, "fit."
"And something is wrong with your own clothes?" He raises a sardonic eyebrow at her, half sarcastic, half genuinely puzzled.
"Well, all my clothes, except the ones I wore and are now never to be worn again, are at my home."
"How long have you been here?"
"I don't exactly… I few days. Four. Or five. Yes, five."
"What?" he exclaims astounded, throwing his blanket off and attempting to get out of bed.
"Don't get up, for Merlin's sake! You've been unconscious for days. Take it easy." She tries to get him back to bed without actually touching him. She has no idea how he might react to her touch even if she has been taking care of him for days without his concession.
"I have to get up. I lost five days! Who knows what could have happened in that time? I need to… do things!"
"Really? What could you have missed? They have been no Order meetings so there is that. And what things could you possibly have to do in this bleeding house! It is boring as hell. Nothing to do. I am about to go mad!"
"Oh, you are about to go mad?" He snarls at her and she quickly realizes her mistake. "You've been here for five days. And you can leave any time you want. Nobody has asked you to stay! I've been here for months. Months! Just rotting away!"
"You are in fact wrong. Remus has asked me to stay. Actually he has declared an Order Healer Emergency and then disappeared into thin air while effectively trapping me in this house. Cheeky bugger. At least you get to wear your own underwear." Irritably muttering that last sentence has at last made Sirius stop trying to escape his blankets and stare at her incredulously.
"What?"
"Never mind that. Will you please go back to bed? If you get up now, chances are that you will lose another five days after you pass out and get a concussion hitting your head on the floor." Reasoning with Sirius has never worked out well but to her surprise, he reluctantly leans back and Eva quickly adjusts his pillows so he can half-sit, leaning on the headboard. She meets his eyes as she pulls the blanket up and berates herself for being disappointed as that unguarded look from the previous day is once again replaced with shadows in his eyes. At least he is not openly combative at the moment. Thank Merlin for small miracles.
"So I've been ill? And you have been her the whole time?" She nods at this.
"Yes. Actually, you got the magical flu from me," she tells him sheepishly. "I had it last week." He doesn't jump down her throat for this and Eva takes it as a good sign. It is not as if she infected him on purpose. But one never knew how Sirius might take it.
"So, at the last meeting when you were acting all... mad as a hatter?" She shrugs at this, blushing. Dear Merlin, what was she thinking at that last meeting? Bloody lunatic.
"That might just have been me, being mad as a hatter." She says this with a smile and even gets a chuckle out of Sirius. "But, yeah. A lot of it was the flu. I was trying to power through."
"How did that work out for you?"
"I think I fainted for about a week. Might still be out if Remus didn't call for me."
"At which point you proceeded to forget your underwear?" Of course he would focus on this. Eva rolls her eyes but a smile is playing at her lips. Some things never change.
"I did not forget my underwear. I simply choose not to bother with changing clothes or packing a suitcase while someone was bleeding from a carotid artery. At least that's what I imagine when I hear a word emergency. I obviously need to clear this up with Remus." Her dark mutterings bring a smirk on Sirius's gaunt face. And she suddenly realizes she is supposed to be a healer as he yawns already tiring.
"Poor Moony."
"Poor Moony nothing. Anyway, I still need to do a check-up on you."
Sirius falls asleep almost immediately after she gives him his potions and Eva releases a breath she never realized, she was holding. That went well. Considering.
