Chapter 5: The Black Sheep
Cressida reaches the door first, her hands bare as her wand is laying on her bedside table. The large oak door hides whoever stands on the other side, and the heavy rain masks their figure through the already frosted glass on either side. Fleamont and Euphemia are no doubt already sleeping and neither James nor Cress are people to back away from danger.
She stops in front of it, about to glance over her shoulder for James but he is already brushing past her, his arm guiding her back. His fingers furl around the round knob which must be cold on his skin. It clicks unlock, and the perfectly maintained hinges don't even squeak as the oak door opens.
Cressida audibly sighs as she sees who is on the other side, a hand pressing against her stomach. "Sirius," she whispers in greeting, pushing back past James. His hair is soaked and clinging to his cheeks and neck, the rainwater still dripping down his face. His shoulders and back are covered in a black vest, overcoating a white collared shirt which are both also soaked through. By his side is a shoulder bag – its heavy weight clear by the way it draws one of his shoulders downwards.
"Can I come in?"
His quavering voice knocks some sense of reality back into James and Cressida who have been blocking the boy's entrance. They both stumble back. "Get in here," James orders, eyes examining his friend's state. Cressida's wild and searching eyes darken as she realises that the water on his face isn't from rain alone. "We thought you weren't coming over till Sunday."
Sirius' jaw shakes – his whole body is trembling. "That was the plan," he whispers, not meeting their eyes. "But…B-but I couldn't stay there." His head shakes vigorously, the panic rising in his eyes. "I can't."
Tears well up in her own eyes, his pain radiating through all of them. For the first time, his head lifts and he meets their gazes. Their rims are red and glossy, his nose flaring in and out with rapid and shaken breaths. They look like they've been fighting for far too long and far too hard. He's sixteen.
Cressida only realises that she hasn't moved forward or said anything yet – as she had imagined herself doing - when James launches forward first, embracing his friend utterly and completely. Sirius all but collapses into it. "You don't need to," James declares, his voice raw and struggling to stay together. "You don't need to stay there."
Sirius' chest quakes with a sudden sob that he had been trying to hold back since before they even opened the door. Her own tear falls down her cheek slowly as his fingers furl around James' hood ferociously. "Regulus," he chokes out. Cressida isn't sure why he said his brother's name in particular. Maybe because it is the betrayal that hurt him the most? She doesn't want to ask.
James unravels them both, but holds Sirius' shoulders in a firm grip, forcing the boy's eyes on him. "Stay here," he says. "You bloody well live here anyway, may as well start putting it as your address."
Sirius doesn't want to believe him at first. "I can't," he whispers.
"Bullshit!" James cries, even shaking his friend slightly. "You've run, haven't you?" Sirius chews his cheek, glancing down at the bag that rests against his leg. That answer is enough for all of them. "Where else you gonna stay? The Leaky Cauldron? I'd rather shave off my head than let any of my friends live in the Leaky Cauldron."
"Listen to the man, Sirius," Cressida says. "If you let him shave his head, I'll never forgive you." Sirius chokes out a disrupted chuckle, nodding feebly. James smiles in affirmation, letting his hands drop from their firm clench. Cressida marches forward at the opening, practically ramming herself into Sirius. Her arms encircle his neck in a viper-like grip and she can't even begin to imagine letting go. Her heart cries out as her gesture is returned in full, one arm clenching around her waist, the other stretching up along the canvas of her back and the side of his head pressing against hers.
His heart thunder's hard against her, his fingertips pressing hard against her skin. Cressida can feel everything; the heartache and sorrow to the anger and loathing. "They're not your family," she whispers, staring over his shoulder and willing herself to hold it together for his sake. "You know they're not." The front part of her sweater is damp and now cold but doesn't register in her head. His head turns inwards, his nose fitting with the curve of her neck. Cressida's eyes squeeze shut, thanking whatever deities may exist that he came to them and not some random motel. The Leaky Cauldron is not the best place to be alone. "I think you need a warm bath and some hot chocolate." She both hears and feels his affirmative hum in response.
They pull away at the same time. She uses her sleeve pulled over the ball of her palm to wipe away the water on his face – which he at least has the energy to flinch away from with a tiny smile. "Thank you," he whispers to both of them. "For everything."
"You don't need to thank us," James drawls with a tone of light mirth. "You need to stop creating a lake in my house." Sirius' eyes close over, too tired to laugh, but appreciative of the joke all the same. "I'll go get the kettle going."
Cressida licks her wet lips, glancing between the two boys, wondering what her role here is. "I'll go fetch some towels," she decides, noting that Sirius now permanent room would have been cleaned away between visits.
They each go their own ways and though she doesn't wish to leave Sirius alone, it isn't like he'd want her trailing after him and doting. She can hear the light pads of James' socked feet downstairs and the kitchen light illuminating the short chamber connecting it to the rest of the house. As Sirius heads to his own room, Cressida hunts down the laundry cupboards which are two large wooden doors with brass handles. They open to reveal a plethora of cotton, wool and linen. Her lips pull upwards softly as she reaches for a dark red towel.
With the towel in hand, Cressida makes her way to Sirius' room where the light is on for the first time in nearly six months. The bag he brought on his shoulder now lays tossed by the foot of the large bed, but everything else remains undisturbed. The ensuite door at the far end is wide open, the sound of running water filling the room.
"I'll assume you aren't naked," Cressida calls just in case as she traverses towards it. Peeking in, she finds Sirius only stripped of his vest which has been lain on top of the laundry basket to dry. "Pity," she mutters with a mirthful twinkle in her eye.
"Please," Sirius whispers, his smile matching hers, sitting on the edge of the tub. "I'm not the one you want to see naked in this house."
Cressida nods slowly, placing the towel in its proper place on the rack. "That's true. Fleamont is a handsome man." She winces immediately after saying so, cringing even though they both know it was a tease. Sirius gives off the lightest of snorts, but his attention remains focused on the faucet and the water. Her face softens back to something rather neutral at the sight of the tub as he turns the tap off. "That's the most boring looking bath I've ever seen."
Tired, red, and wet eyes half-glare at her. "And how in Merlin's name is a bath supposed to be fun looking?"
"Coloured salts," she suggests. "Bubbles? Even a candle would make a better atmosphere."
Sirius scrunches his nose, peering down at the still water. "Nah," he whispers. "Can you ask James to put a hold on the hot chocolate? I don't think I could eat or drink right now."
Cressida nods meekly. "As long as you eat the buffet you know he's going to make in the morning," she bargains. Sirius ponders her offer, drifting his fingers through the warm water. Then he nods. Cressida takes a step forward, standing close to his side. "You will talk to us, won't you? Eventually at least."
"You always manage to get everything out of me," he murmurs distantly. She isn't quite sure how to take that until he looks back at her. His face is set straight – and she doesn't expect anything else – but there is something quietly content. "I hate you for it."
Cressida hums in offence, her eyes fleeting away before resting back on his. "You love me," she corrects. "And James is worse for it than me."
Sirius cocks his head to the side briefly. "That's true," he agrees. "He openly demands for it though. You just wait until we start talking ourselves." Sniffing, he rubs the back of his hand under his nose. "Sometimes I don't even think you mean to."
Cressida shrugs, folding her arms against her stomach. "Maybe it's because you know you need to. I'm just a catalyst."
"That's a good word for it." As though there is a sudden change in the room's temperature, Sirius jolts up to his feet, gesturing towards the door with his head. "Unless you actually want to see me naked," he finishes off the first unspoken part. Raising her hands, Cressida quickly escorts herself out of the room. Sirius follows her to the door, swinging it shut until only the side profile of his body pokes through. "Oi," he calls out. Raising a brow, she half-turns back. "Love you too."
Her brow drops, replaced by the rise of her cheeks which press her eyes close together. Sighing quietly, she mouths back, "I know." Sirius nods in confirmation then the door clicks shut.
Feeling confident that she's at least left him in a state that is not on the verge of a panic attack, Cressida makes her way back downstairs. James is still in the kitchen, though the kettle is boiled – evident as he pours the steaming liquid into a large mug.
He offers Cressida a short smile as he seeks out the coco mix. She comes to lean against the bench next to his little work area, watching the clear water turn a warm and sweet looking brown as he mixes the powder in. While James' is busy tossing the spoon aside, Cressida picks the mug up, blowing gently and taking a long sip. He stares at her with parted lips, perplexed and unsure whether to scold her or not. "He doesn't want it," she says. "Doesn't think he'll stomach it."
His face softens once more, nodding mildly. "What if I wanted that then?"
Cressida turns around to lean her back against the bench instead. "You would've made one for yourself," she counters swiftly. James can't help the huff of amusement and agreement from coming. He matches her stance, folding his arms tightly. "You alright?"
His tongue rolls over his cheek. "Why wouldn't I be?" The way he says so is enough of an answer.
"Because I know how I feel," she says nevertheless. Swallowing a thick grape in her throat, she adds, "I feel like I've just had my heart torn out." Her breath shudders in memory of what happened only minutes ago. As the strength of her legs begins to fail her, Cressida places the steaming mug to the side and pushes herself onto the countertop, hunched over and elbows braced on her knees. Shaking her head, she whispers, "He's not alright."
"He's going to be though," James refutes promptly. "He's going to be happy because he doesn't have to go back to them. He won't have to fight them every time they remember his existence."
Cressida doesn't have the heart to argue that that might not be entirely true. His family could haunt him for the rest of his life. Instead, her attention turns to a slip of paper sticking out of his pocket around his stomach. "What's that?"
Almost startled at the sight of it, James's hand snaps to cover it, shoving the end back under the cover of the dark hood. Blinking profusely, he mutters, "Nothing."
Cressida narrows her eyes. "Is a letter to Lily?" she pushes.
"No," James gripes, his eyes meeting her gaze periodically. "Stop being nosey." Cressida raises her hands in surrender, far from an arguing mood. Perhaps it isn't whatever the parchment holds that's getting to him anyway. "I'm going to make sure he's not drowning himself."
She can't be bothered to figure out if he's joking or not – though probably the latter – and only listens to the sound of his retreating steps. Picking up the hot chocolate once more, Cressida stays seated on the bench under the single kitchen light well after all the lights upstairs turn off.
Sorry, I forgot to address the enquiry beforehand as for if this will follow canon. No, this won't follow canon. Without giving too much away, Cressida will have her role in the First Wizarding War, and this means that certain events will change. For the good or worse? I won't revela that yet.