Half a Life Without You

Chapter 6: Connection

Severus's POV:

I couldn't stop myself, even if I wanted to. Each step echoes quietly through the long corridor, bringing me closer to her. She haunts me—her presence constantly tugging at the edges of my thoughts. No matter how hard I try to push her away, the pull is relentless. I'm no longer in control of my emotions; all I feel is the need to see her, to talk with her, to be near her.

The infirmary doors come into view, and with each passing second, anticipation buzzes under my skin. It spreads through my limbs, urging me forward. Any lingering reservations about Potter and his gang vanish. They wouldn't dare do anything with Madam Pomfrey nearby… or with Everly there. I step boldly toward the entrance, but the sound of laughter halts me in my tracks.

I edge forward, curiosity pulling me closer, only to retreat swiftly into the shadows when I see them—her—laughing with them.

A sharp pang of sadness stabs through me, unexpected and heavy. The weight of it nearly makes me stumble. Loneliness has been my constant companion, something I've long accepted, but seeing her with them rips open the wounds I thought had long since healed. I know I should walk away now—leave her, leave them, leave everything—but I can't. The pull toward her is too strong.

From my hiding place, I watch as she smiles up at Black, who lightly bumps her shoulder and pats her hand as if he has the right. Jealousy flares, scorching away the sadness. I want to storm through the doors and rip her away from him—away from them. The sight of Black tweaking her nose sends a surge of rage through me, the thought of tearing his arm from his body disturbingly appealing. How could I have ever regretted not killing the arrogant bastard?

But I stop myself. She's not mine. She never was. And she never will be.

That truth hits me harder than I expect, hollowing out whatever hope had lingered. You can't lose what you never had, I think bitterly, turning away, retreating further into the shadows, ready to disappear.

Then, Lupin's voice cuts through the air, sharp with concern. "Everly, are you okay?"

I freeze. All thoughts of leaving vanish.

No one notices me slip into the room; all attention is fixed on her. She's pale, her earlier laughter replaced by something far more alarming. I watch as she tries to stand, her voice barely a whisper, "I think I just need to lie down for a bit."

Black reaches out to steady her, "Everly, wait—"

But it's too late. Her legs buckle, and she collapses to the floor. In that instant, everything else falls away. Without thinking, I rush forward. Doubt, jealousy, fear—none of it matters now.

I push the others aside, crashing to my knees next to her. She's screaming—her face twisted in unbearable agony, her back arching violently as she convulses on the hard floor. Her wide eyes meet mine, but they don't see me. The warmth that usually shines in them is gone, replaced by blind, consuming pain. The sight splinters something inside me.

I act on pure instinct, gathering her into my arms, the need to help her overwhelming all else. The moment I touch her, a strange energy pulses between us. She stops screaming, her body relaxing from violent thrashing into trembling quivers. Cradling her closer, I rise to my feet and start toward her bed.

Before I can get far, a rough hand yanks my shoulder, jerking me around. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Give her to me!" Black snaps, his voice laced with anger.

Before I can respond, Madam Pomfrey appears, frazzled but focused. "Oh no! Severus, hurry, get her to the bed!" she orders.

I glance back at Black. He's leaning heavily against Potter, too weak to stand on his own. For a moment, I smirk—there's nothing he can do. But that small victory evaporates when Everly whimpers softly in my arms. I pull her closer and carry her to the little bed where Madam Pomfrey waits.

I set her down gently, about to release my hold when she calls out, her voice small and panicked. "No, don't leave me!"

Her words stop me cold. Without thinking, I gather her back into my arms, holding her tightly. "Stay," she whispers, her voice fragile and shaking.

Wild centaurs couldn't tear me away. "I've got you. I'm not going anywhere," I murmur, my voice thick with emotion.

She exhales softly, her body going limp as her arms fall loosely to her sides. Panic slices through me like a blade until I feel the faint, steady rhythm of her heartbeat against my chest. I breathe a sigh of relief, my lips brushing against her ear as I whisper, "Don't you leave me, little one."

A bitter voice snaps me out of the moment. "Get your big nose away from her."

I look up to see Black hobbling toward me with Potter and Lupin at his side, Pettigrew scurrying behind as usual. Black reaches out, his eyes blazing, trying to pull Everly from my arms.

"Try it, and I'll break your other leg," I snarl, my rage flaring dangerously. Black flinches, staggering back into Lupin's wide-eyed grip while Potter steps forward, his stance threatening.

"ENOUGH!" Madam Pomfrey's voice booms across the room. "Mr. Potter, help Mr. Black back to his bed. And as for the rest of you," she adds, glaring at the group, "you're all well enough to leave. Go back to your dormitories—I do not have time for this nonsense!"

Black leans in close, his voice a low growl. "This isn't over, Snivellus." He shoots me one last glare before limping away with the others.

Madam Pomfrey quickly turns her attention back to Everly, summoning a silvery Patronus in the shape of a small chipmunk. "Professor Dumbledore, I need you to come to the infirmary immediately. There's a situation with our visitor. Go on, now," she instructs the Patronus, which darts off in a flash.

It doesn't take long for Dumbledore to sweep into the room, his robes billowing dramatically as he makes his way to the foot of Everly's bed. He looks down at her pale, lifeless face, concern etched deeply into his features.

"What happened?" he asks, his eyes flicking between Madam Pomfrey and me.

We both explain, and Dumbledore listens intently, his expression growing more intrigued as I describe the connection, the surge of energy that passed between us.

"Curious, very curious," he mutters as I recount the moment when the spark first hit. His eyes narrow thoughtfully. "Are you experiencing any pain or discomfort from this connection?"

"No, it's not painful," I answer softly, holding Everly closer, as if to protect her from the world itself. My expression likely betrays the truth—I'd still be holding her, even if it were painful. The link between us thrums gently, a strange but steady presence.

"Do you know what's wrong with her?" I ask, my voice tight with desperation as I glance up at him.

Dumbledore exhales, a long, weary sigh that carries the weight of untold secrets. "I have only theories, Severus," he begins softly, his voice measured. "And even those are spun from old stories, the kind one rarely finds in reliable sources." His eyes grow distant, a flicker of sadness crossing his face like a shadow from some forgotten memory. "Velox Magicae Imperium… a rapid maturation of magical powers."

I scoff before I can stop myself. "But that's just a—"

"A legend?" Dumbledore interrupts smoothly, the faintest trace of amusement in his voice. "Yes, Mr. Snape, I'm aware. But even legends often hold a kernel of truth." He pauses, casting his gaze down at Everly's pale face, as if seeking answers in the stillness of her features. "The truth, Severus," he continues, voice softening, "is both beautiful and terrible. It demands caution, especially when one is unsure of the full story."

I feel my frustration mounting. I want to shake the truth from him, to demand answers. He's withholding something—I can feel it. The legends I know, the darkest ones—Obscurus, manifestations of uncontrolled, destructive magic—linger in my mind. My stomach tightens. The girl I hold in my arms couldn't possibly harbor something so vile, something so dangerous.

I'm torn from my thoughts by the sound of my own voice, barely a whisper. "Obscurus."

Dumbledore looks at me sharply, reading my fears. "An Obscurus is not the only possibility, Severus," he says quietly. But I see the flicker of something—doubt?—in his eyes, and it makes my chest tighten further.

"What, then?" I snap, the anger boiling over. "What are the other possibilities?"

Dumbledore remains unflappable in the face of my outburst. "There is another legend," he begins calmly, "about a wizard who was taken at birth and raised in a world without magic. Upon returning to the magical world, his powers surged uncontrollably. He nearly burned out, consumed by his own magic, until a witch helped him channel the excess energy. She acted as a vessel, taking in his magic until the surge subsided and balance was restored."

I frown deeply, the theory making little sense. "A world without magic? You're telling me such a place exists? Is that her story? Did she come from some mythical land without magic?"

Dumbledore's gaze shifts to me, and for a moment, he is unreadable, the wisdom of centuries held within those blue eyes. Then, finally, he speaks, his words deliberate and cryptic. "I can only say this, Severus: a week ago, she had no magic. And today… today it burns within her like the sun."

His words land like a blow, and I struggle to grasp the implications. How could someone live without magic only to have it explode into existence, surging like an uncontrollable force? The very idea feels impossible—yet I can feel the truth of it in the connection still thrumming between us, though fainter now.

"You feel it fading, don't you?" Dumbledore's voice cuts through my tumultuous thoughts. "The connection will lessen as her body adjusts. In time, with regular use of her magic, this sort of build-up will not happen again. She will learn balance, and so will you."

I look down at Everly again, watching the slow return of color to her cheeks, her breathing steadying. Dumbledore is right—she's improving. But the idea that this magic is so new to her, so volatile, fills me with unease. Could it happen again? Could she lose control?

Dumbledore places a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Look at her, Severus. She's recovering." His tone is soft, but firm. "I assure you, she will come through this."

Before I can respond, Madam Pomfrey steps forward, her hands brisk but her tone cautious. "Mr. Snape, try letting her go now. Let's see if she can rest on her own."

Reluctance claws at me, but I feel Dumbledore's silent reassurance and slowly begin to loosen my grip. The moment her weight leaves my arms, I feel the loss, a cold emptiness replacing the warmth that had been there. But Everly continues to rest peacefully, her face serene, and I feel a thread of relief tug at the corners of my mind.

"She's stable," Madam Pomfrey confirms. "But Miss Quinn needs her rest. I'll set up wards to alert me if anything changes. You'll be notified immediately, should she need further assistance."

I glance back at Everly once more, still hesitant to leave, but knowing I must. As I turn, Dumbledore speaks, his voice carrying a subtle note of finality. "Come, Severus. There is more research to be done, and I intend to keep my promise."

I pause, confused. "Miss Quinn?"

"Yes," he replies, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Miss Everly Quinn."

I let the name settle in my mind as I follow Dumbledore out of the room, my gaze lingering on Everly for a moment longer. How can I feel so much for someone I barely know? Her name is only the beginning, a single thread in the tapestry of her mysteries.

I nod, though it takes all my willpower to leave her side. As I turn to follow Dumbledore, I pass by Black, who sneers viciously.

"She'll never choose you," he spits, his voice dripping with malice.

My steps falter for a moment, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of a response. I continue down the hallway, letting the shadows swallow me whole.