Ghostly (Narry)

Chapter Thirty Two: Scary Love

"Excited to have your boy back?" Margery asks, as soon as he steps into her house. She finally looks up from the newspaper she was reading, and takes in the other boys who are trailing in behind him, "Which one is he?"

"He's not here," Harry responds sharply, annoyed and running off of absolutely no sleep, "It didn't work."

Her brows furrow and she frowns at him, "It didn't work?"

"No," he sighs in frustration, "It didn't."

"It always works."

"Well it didn't this time, Margery." He wants to throw a tantrum right here in the middle of the room. He wants to scream, cry, bang his fists into the ground with all his might, but most of all he just wants to sleep.

Okay that's a lie, most of all he wants Niall back.

She tuts at Louis who, unsurprisingly, has started touching things that he wasn't supposed to. She smacks his hand lightly away from where he's about to pick up a crystal ball on top of the fireplace mantle. He yelps and clutches his hand to his chest dramatically. He looks to Zayn like he's supposed to speak up but Zayn just shrugs tiredly and mutters, "Stop touching things."

He pouts and crosses his arms over his chest, "Fine."

"Anyways," Harry hisses at Louis who shrinks under his harsh glare and turns to the older woman, "He's still gone."

She rubs her hand under her chin thoughtfully, "You sure you did it correctly?"

He's about two seconds away from breaking and yelling at her. "Is there a wrong way to do it?"

"So you're telling me you poured it into the mouth of his dead body and he didn't wake up?"

His shoulders slump and his eyes widen. His face flames with heat. Of course they didn't think of that. They'd completely forgotten that their circumstance isn't a normal one and that anyone else would've poured it into their loved ones corpse.

He turns on his heel, sharing a desperate look with all of his friends. Liam and Zayn wear weary grimaces on their faces, knowing exactly what they're going to have to do now. Louis looks excited (of course).

He's not sure how to respond to Margery. He can't think of a good excuse to tell her other than the truth, which will probably make him sound like a lunatic. He'd know, because that's exactly how it felt when they all discovered Niall's ability.

"Right," He says instead and mentally punches himself.

"I dropped it and so we only were able to give him half?" Louis tries to take the blame, missing the surprised look on Harry's face since he's standing behind him. "And it didn't work."

Margery openly glares at the tiny brunet, "You shouldn't be playing around with things like this, Louis Tomlinson."

"Hey," Louis defends, "I–wait, how do you know my name?"

She ignores him and returns her harsh gaze to Harry, "And now you've come here to ask me for more."

"If you have any," he mumbles shyly, toeing his shoe into the carpet and avoiding her gaze.

"I don't."

His stomach drops and his gaze snaps up to meet hers, "You don't?"

"Not for you, anyways," she responds and pushes past him towards her desk at the front, "You've had yours."

"Please," he begs, trailing behind her like a lost puppy, "Please."

She stops and studies him for a moment. She takes in his tired, pleading, mossy eyes and how his hands are clasped together tightly. The poor boy really does look like he's been through the ringer, but she doesn't do charity work.