Chapter 7: The Try-Hard

"Are you going to be at try-outs?"

"Haven't decided."

"You should. You can watch me, and I'll be able to see you in the stands."

There's a short pause before Lily's sharp and inevitable response comes. "Why would I ever want to watch you, Potter? To see you do nothing but show off for two hours? Honestly, it's more boring than Binn's class."

Cressida's cheek presses into her fist, teeth digging into her lips as she sits at the Gryffindor table facing Sirius who sits on her right. The conversation is happening to her left just a few meters down. The three of them have their Quidditch robes on, alike a few others spread over the table.

Sirius is in a very similar position, a leg on either side of the long chair, watching the interaction over her shoulder. "How does Lily look?" she questions.

Sirius purses his lips, tipping his head from side to side. "No tighter than usual," he concludes. He leans closer to her ear. "She took points off our own house the other day when Kennon was causing a mess in the library."

Cressida sips her apple juice. "That's what prefects are supposed to do," she points out. Lily is well known to be kind and fair, a quality that was most certainly helpful in gaining her position as a prefect. And she is certainly one of the most likely to become Head Girl. "Be fair and just," she recites McGonagall's words in a pompous manner. "Honestly, I don't know why James keeps trying for her. You'd think he would go for someone who actually thinks he's a decent person."

Sirius makes a subtle expression of agreement, but it changes to a loose grin as James sits back down opposite them, loading up his plate. "How'd it go, mate?"

"She's busy," he answers simply. "But the games are more important anyway."

Cressida plants an easy-going grin. "Exactly."

Their morning passes over easily; the jitters or try-outs making her bounce her knees, but the feeling is welcome. It's the same one Cressida feels before each game, the butterflies that sharpen her focus and make her feel… alive.

Nothing bothers the morning of tactic discussion until a lone figure struts into the Great Hall, donned in the same Quidditch uniform as the rest of them. James is the first to notice. He scoffs, rolling his eyes but keeps his attention forward. Cressida and Sirius peek over, practically mimicking James at the realisation.

Colton Andrews, another fifth-year Gryffindor with an attitude that the Slytherins think the Gryffindors all have. "What the hell does he think he's doing?" James asserts.

"I think he intends to try-out," Sirius offers, though highly unneeded. Both James and Cressida give him a quick glare. "James is blind," he defends.

James points to his face where the frames are still securely planted. "I'm wearing my glasses. I can see perfectly."

Cressida shuffles in her seat, dragging her eyes away from Andrews. "He's looking right at me," she says, trying not to move her lips. The boys halt their argument, and unlike Cressida, stare right at the approaching Gryffindor until he stands right over them. His blonde curls form a halo around his head with a tan that doesn't match the skin below his collar. The worst part about him is the chilling blue eyes that remind her of rough seawater through a storm.

"Hawthorne, trying-out this year?"

Cressida slowly looks back up, planting on a smile she knows looks fake. "Why wouldn't I be?" A fair question, she thinks. Having been on the team for three years in a row, Cressida is in a place where one would expect her to carry out the position of keeper until graduation where a new and upcoming student would replace her just as she had done. A good player is hardly ever replaced. You'd have to be cockier than James and Sirius combined to try-out for a position of a well-versed player.

Andrews shrugs, glancing over the small group as though he is trying to decide how much he can get away with while not at their full capacity. "Thought you might get tired of playing. Or scared."

"Why the fuck would she be scared?" James demands.

Andrews lip curls in a small smirk that does nothing to any of them. They're too used to actual threats. "Of the competition. Baxton asked me to come to try-outs. I think I want to be a keeper."

The words pour from his mouth with such blatant confidence that Sirius, James, and Cressida cannot help but erupt into a fit of quiet chuckles. "Keeper?" Sirius repeats. "Don't you need to be able to fly to do that?"

"Shouldn't be so mean, Black. We're going to be on the same team after all. And you want to win, don't you?"

"Yeah, we do," Cressida answers quickly. "And Gryffindor will need actual skill on the team to do so. Baxton probably asked you out of entertainment alone." Harsh, she knows. But the threat and the arrogance he exults is enough for Cressida to sink to petty threats and insults. Besides, he'd asked for it by coming over to them.

Andrews smiles. A simple gesture but a taunt that boils her blood. "You seem so confident." Then he leaves, passing by them towards the head of the table. The three of them watch him with similar glares.

"Jackass," James growls. "I wonder what potion he took to think he's good enough to play the team." Cressida is silently glad that they also have a pronounced aversion to him. She continues to watch his strut from behind, finally knocking from her pit of thoughts by a boot kicking her shin. James is leaning slightly over the table, searching for her attention. "We have a perfectly good keeper already. If he thinks he stands a chance, he's delusional."

Cressida forces herself to agree with him. "I thought you were trying to kick me off the team."

James. "Only if I find someone better," he cheeks. Cressida raises a brow, peeling the skin off a banana. "Where is Baxton anyway?"

"Talking to some girl over in Ravenclaw," Sirius answers, prompting them to look with a gesture of his head. James and Cressida glimpse at the Ravenclaw table where, sure enough, their captain is. His leg is propped up on the seat which his elbows are folded over, poised much like James was when he was talking with Lily. "Hanna something," Sirius adds.

Cressida watches the interaction for a little while longer, paying considerable attention to the way he behaves. She realises, solemnly, that she's never had someone act that way around her before. The way James is around Lily, or the way Remus was with Willa Brown in third year. The way Baxton is with Hanna.

Loneliness is not a state Cressida often finds herself in, besides the few short weeks during the Summer holidays that she spends at home, yet an entire tsunami of it washes down over her, trickling all the way to her toes.

"Cress? Cress?" Cressida blinks, snapping out of her daze as James once again calls for her attention. He only sighs once he has it. "What's with you this morning? Act like that during try-outs and you might just lose your spot."

"Nice, James," Sirius drawls. James gives him an innocent look as Sirius shakes his head. "But he's right. Andrews only wanted to get into your head so don't let him. He's not half the player you are."

Xx

Cressida flops against the Quidditch stand chairs with a hearty sigh and chuckle. James and Sirius are not far behind, but their conversation has slowed their pace. Remus knowingly hands her a bottle of water, looking vaguely bored after watching nearly two hours of try-out.

"Thank you."

Cressida wouldn't argue with him if he would rather sleep in on a Saturday morning, but being the friend he is, insisted that he'd watch.

Regrettably, Andrews had gotten into her head and his voice itched her brain well into the first half of the morning but after a good warm-up and catching nearly every shot, the confidence trickled back in. Andrews, on the opposite goals, was a mediocre player. Better than they'd expected, admittedly, but still not up to a standard.

A young player with his skill might be a worthy risk. One who could develop over the next few years with training, but Andrews is so far into Hogwarts that replacing Cressida with him would be idiocy. Her spot is sealed.

As the fresh, and very much needed water cools her throat, her eyes pin on James. He and Sirius are laughing as they speak with another Gryffindor chaser (assumingly they'd continue their position). Cressida has an inkling he has something to do with her near-perfect performance.

"Getting colder, isn't it?" Remus questions, leaning back against the seat behind him. The sky is a cold grey, casting a faded blue hue over the world. Melancholy, some might describe it as, but Cressida takes an odd liking to it. The sharp air heightens everything.

"I can't wait for winter," Cressida muses.

"I thought you said you like Summer more," Remus notes, pulling his cardigan tighter around his front. Cressida smiles softly, agreeing silently that she had said that. Summer is one of her favourite times, but not because of the weather. It's the holidays, which means weeks being spent at James' house. No homework, classes. But winter is beautiful and enchanting.

"Can't I like both?"

Remus makes a gesture of resigned agreement. "You looked good," he says. "Not that I'd know much but you stopped the ball."

"The Quaffle?" she presses, the amusement displayed easily on her features. "Thank you for the observation."

"Hey, thanks for the water!" Sirius snatches the metal water can from beside Cressida's leg, unlatching the top and begins chugging it all before she can open her mouth to protest. As soon as it moves an inch away from his mouth, she snatches it back. "You right there?"

"Get your own water, Black," goads Cressida. "Stop infecting mine with your germs."

Sirius scoffs, drawling out, "Says the one who double-dips her chips in the sauce."

Cressida rises to her feet, knuckles pressed against her hips. "Rich, coming from the one who I found kissing a mirror."

His eyes narrow, the playful tint dimming but still ever-present. "It was a dare."

"Who dared you?" The bickering pair look to the side where James is grinning with his arms crossed loosely. Remus looks more than amused, not bothering to hide his grin much like James. Cressida mindlessly notes that Peter has disappeared. "I don't recall ever playing that before."

Before Sirius can respond, his ears tinting red, Cressida continues her taunting. "I'm just glad it was a wardrobe mirror and not that one that we talk through. Always thought you'd make a cute couple."

Sirius pulls out his wand and Cressida squeals, nearly stumbling over the chairs behind her. "You want water? Aguamenti." A jet of fresh, and rather icy water, streams from the tip of his wand. Despite her relatively thick layering of Quidditch robes, in a matter of seconds, it soaks through to her bone. Her so-called friends do nothing to stop Sirius, and Cressida pretends she can't hear them laughing as she does indeed fall over the chairs.

Sirius chases behind her, casting profanities as well as the water-conjuring charm. As her feet slam into the grass from a high jump off the stands, Cressida falls into a roll before finding her own wand tucked into her boot and pointing it at Sirius. "Expelliarmus!"

The stream of water finally stops and Cressida collapses in a fit of laughter, water dripping down her face and clothes. Sirius laughs good-naturedly as well, trotting off in search of his wand that's flown off into the grass. She waits on the field for the other two to catch up, mentally thanking them for bringing their stuff down with them.

"You alright down there, Cress?" James calls down. He tosses Sirius' bag to him giving him barely enough of a warning and his belongings tumble out. He takes her own out of Remus' hands, sauntering towards her spot still on the ground while Remus helps Sirius pick up his things. "Looking a little chilly."

"It is a bit," she agrees, scrunching her nose. "Sirius is giving you a filthy glare, by the way." Sure enough, behind James, Sirius is glaring at the back of James' head while he continues repacking his bag.

"Thought I'd even it all out for you since you're still sitting on the ground."

"Thank you, but it's not needed." Cressida leans to the side, smirking and speaking louder for the long-haired boy to hear. "He knows I take my time with revenge." Leaning back straight, her smirk continues as she speaks to James. "I think I'll dye his underwear pink this time."

James considers her suggestion, stretching a hand down for her. Cressida takes it, swinging back onto her feet. "That's pretty amateur, don't you think?" Of course James can't settle for something simple. But Cressida knows she couldn't bring herself to do much more.

"I'll do it slowly enough that he thinks he's going mad."

"A little better." He glances over her, shaking his head with an airy chuckle. "Do you want another coat or something?"

"I'll let you know in a few minutes when it really starts to get to me. But I think the faster I get to the fireplace, the better."

Eventually, they do start heading back, exchanging good-lucks and words of encouragement to their house-mates that have also come to the try-out. The only one who does not receive a single word from all four of them is Andrews, but a few of the kinder and less scornful members do pass on their compliments.

In a moment of panic, Cressida pats herself down, feeling bare without the weight of her bag but a sharp sigh of relief comes after realising that James never handed it back to her. She glances at him, noting his thumb hooked under the strap over his shoulder and she notes that he must be instinctively thinking it is his own. Cressida smiles to herself, knowing that he'd be pissed once he realises but the aftermath would be worth the lightness in her step.