Half a Life Without You

Chapter 5: Meeting the Marauders

Everly's POV

The sounds of carefree laughter stir me from sleep, a welcome change from the chaos of the night before. The echo of their voices fills the room, light and easy, in stark contrast to the screams that had jolted me awake hours earlier. Above the laughter, a voice breaks through, loud yet hushed.

"Bloody hell, Prongs, do shut up! You're going to wake her!"

"I rather thought that was the point, Pads," comes the amused retort. "You've been talking about her all morning."

I stifle a smile, listening as Prongs mockingly repeats some of what Pads must have said while I was still asleep. "'Mate, you'll never believe it. I met an angel... she's so beautiful, she has the loveliest blue eyes, and the softest voice.'"

Before he can finish, there's a distinct thwack, followed by an indignant "Ouch! I'm only joking, Pads," Prongs mutters, laughter muffled.

A grin spreads across my face as I bury my own laughter into the pillow. These are definitely better sounds to wake up to. The lighthearted energy in the room wraps around me, a balm after the chaos. Another giggle reaches my ears—likely followed by another pillow attack. I should be basking in the joy of this simple morning, but a small seed of unease creeps into my mind. Sirius Black cannot have a crush on me, can he? But what if he does?

I frown, trying to chase the thought away. Before I can dwell on it, Madam Pomfrey's head pops around the privacy screen, making me jump. She smiles brightly, pulling a tray table to my bedside with practiced efficiency.

"Good morning! I've brought you breakfast. I expect you to eat every bite," she says with a teasing sternness, propping up my pillows.

I nod and wordlessly pick up a piece of toast, biting into it while she watches me with a nod of approval. Once satisfied, she leaves me to enjoy the meal in peace.

I sink back into the bed, the warmth of the morning light spilling over the blankets. For a moment, I allow myself to drift, letting the soft glow and the sound of playful voices lull me into calm. This world, with all its strange familiarity and surreal twists, feels both foreign and oddly comforting. And for now, I let my worries fade away, soaking in the fleeting tranquility.

My thoughts drift to him, and I wonder if he's still in the bed next to mine. The memory of his dark, captivating eyes floats to the surface, making me sigh with longing. I can't wait to see him again. But just as quickly, another memory ruins the moment—me, staring at him like an absolute idiot, unable to say a word. I groan softly, covering my face with my hand. "Ugh… I'm an idiot."

Before I can dwell on it, Madam Pomfrey suddenly reappears from behind the screen. "Everything alright, dear?" she asks, eyeing me with concern.

I jump, startled for the second time today. "Yeah, I'm fine," I reply, trying to shake off my embarrassment. She really needs to wear a bell or something.

"Wonderful," she beams. "The boys are eager to meet the girl who helped them last night. Are you up for a visit?"

My breath catches at the mention of "the boys." Does that mean he'll be there? "Sure, I just need to get dressed. I'd love to meet them," I say, forcing a smile through my nerves.

"Your clothes have been laundered and are in the drawer," she replies, though her distaste is clear. "I'll speak with Dumbledore about getting you some proper attire during your stay. But for now, your… muggle clothes will have to do." She takes my tray and disappears again.

Giddy excitement bubbles up at the thought of seeing him. I pull open the drawer, grabbing my jeans and… oh no. My black t-shirt stares back at me, the bold letters across the front reading, I SOLEMNLY SWEAR THAT I AM UP TO NO GOOD. And on the back, little footprints circle the words MISCHIEF MANAGED.

I flop onto the bed with a groan, stifling hysterical laughter. Of all the shirts I could've brought—this one?! I imagine trying to explain Harry Potter merch to the actual Marauders. But thankfully, a solution pops into my head—I'll just turn it inside out.

After flipping it, I check the mirror. It works! You can't even tell. The shirt now looks like an ordinary black tee, the tag tucked neatly under my hair. Crisis averted.

I step out from behind the screen, the boys' chatter immediately dying down as I approach. James is the first to speak, his unruly hair and glasses unmistakable. "Hi, I'm James," he grins, hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. Gesturing toward Sirius, he adds, "This is Sirius. Apparently, you two met last night."

Sirius shoots him a glare, but James presses on, introducing the others. "This is Remus," he says, nodding toward the pale boy with sandy blonde hair and the faint scars across his face. Remus offers me a small, shy smile and a wave. "And last but not least, Peter," James finishes. Peter smiles too, though something about the look in his eyes makes me shudder. I quickly glance away.

"It's nice to meet you all," I say, giving a small wave. My eyes scan the room, searching. Where's Severus? "Wasn't there another boy here last night?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

Sirius scowls. "Yeah, that git was gone before we woke up. Probably off somewhere plotting."

I frown, not liking how he speaks about Severus. But before I can respond, Sirius softens. "Sorry, love. I didn't mean to snap. There's… history there. I shouldn't have made you uncomfortable. Forgive me?" He holds out his hand, hopeful.

I place my hand in his. "You're forgiven," I say, smiling gently. His grip is warm as he gives it a squeeze.

"Come sit next to me," he offers, shifting over on the bed to make space. My cheeks heat as I sit down beside him, and the others pull up chairs.

And then the questions come flying in: "Are you a transfer student? Why are you in the Infirmary? Where are you from? Do you have a boyfriend?"

I feel my face flush at that last question—I'm pretty sure Sirius was the one who asked. My mind races, trying to piece together a coherent story. Just breathe.

"I'm here to discuss a possible transfer to Hogwarts," I begin, choosing my words carefully. "But I got… sick when I arrived. My parents move around a lot, so I've never stayed in one place long enough to call it home. And no, I don't have a boyfriend." I avoid Sirius's gaze as I finish, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks again. I really need to talk to Dumbledore about a better cover story.

Before they can ask anything else, I change the subject. "Tell me more about Hogwarts. If I'm going to transfer here, I'd like to know more."

Over the next hour, they launch into stories about their time at school. I can't remember the last time I laughed this much. No wonder they're notorious for their antics. Eventually, the conversation shifts to Quidditch, and Sirius, James, and Peter begin debating the best positions to play. Remus sits back, watching them with an amused smile, shaking his head at their bickering.

Without warning, a sharp pain flares up in my chest, spreading like wildfire through my arms and down into my legs. It's a sudden, searing ache, and I instinctively clutch my ribs as a cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. The sound of the boys' laughter fades as I look up, my eyes locking with Remus's concerned gaze.

"Everly, are you okay?" he asks, his voice cutting through the haze of discomfort.

The room falls silent, all eyes turning toward me. "I think I just need to lie down for a bit," I whisper, the words barely escaping my lips. I try to stand, but another wave of pain slams into me, stronger than before. I can't hear Sirius's worried voice as the burning sensation spreads, overtaking everything.

It feels like a thousand hot knives are slicing through my skin, each breath fueling the fire inside me. Somewhere in the distance, I hear screaming—a sound that makes the air itself shudder. But then I realize… it's coming from me.

Suddenly, strong arms lift me from the floor, and the pain, though still there, begins to dull slightly. The arms hold me gently as I'm placed on a bed, but the moment they pull away, the agony roars back to life, tearing through me again.

"No… don't leave me," I plead weakly, reaching out with trembling fingers.

Without hesitation, the same arms wrap around me once more, holding me tightly, and the pain begins to ebb. It doesn't vanish, but it's bearable now. "Stay," I whisper, my voice shaky and fragile.

"I've got you. I'm not going anywhere," comes a deep, calming voice, and despite everything, my heart leaps at the sound.

"Thank you," I murmur, my body relaxing as darkness edges in. I let go, slipping into unconsciousness.