Chapter 10: The Stupidest Situation
To say the distance between them and the manor continues to grow even as Sirius drags her faster than her feet can walk may be a slight exaggeration. But with blood dripping off the end of her fingers, and an unbelievable stabbing pain that throbs – watching the manor shrink before her very eyes seems believable enough.
Sirius' grip doesn't falter around her left wrist, nor her back as he leads them through the field that had just spilled their hearts to and for that she is thankful, because it looks like a decent place to sit down and scream once again.
Her teeth grit together, wishing there was something between them other than her tongue. "I-I'm gonna need some of that firewhiskey you hide in your room," she splutters out, half laughing, the other half completely serious.
"You can have all the firewhiskey you want," Sirius responds breathlessly, his attention clearly not on the conversation she's trying to create, "As long as you don't pass out on me because I'm not as strong as you think I am."
Cressida's head lops to the side. Her entire right side is soaked with blood that continues to flow with no pressure to hold it in. "So James was right," she mutters under her breath whilst tripping over her feet. "He is fitter than you." Cressida stares at the almost invisible hole in her shirt – since everything looks the same colour. "My shirt," she pouts. It's one of her favourites.
Glancing back to Sirius, he's unamused and centred. Looking back down at herself, her eyes latch onto his pale hand that digs into the side of her waist. Well, what was once a pale hand. Now it looks like he's dipped it in red food colouring that still pools between his fingers. It is at that moment, that the surrealness that she's been feeling all day switches off.
At first Cressida struggles to comprehend the amount of pain that she's in. What she thought was unimaginable before now seems like a stomachache in comparison.
Secondary, it is like someone has put a plastic bag over her head and Cressida's already used up all the air. The colour drains from her face entirely as she lets out a strangled moan. "They shot me." Her voice quivers, exposing her growing sense of true fear and distress that wasn't present before.
"Don't talk, princess," Sirius orders. The manor is so close now – she can see inside the windows to the dining room. Cressida ignores him.
"I can't feel my arm." Without looking down, she can't tell whether her fingers are moving or no when she tries to wriggle them around. The steps of the manor are finally before them. Sirius tries to haul her towards them but she unravels her arm and leans back. "N-no. I don't want to get blood everywhere."
His face morphs into something of utter disbelief. "I don't really care," he hisses and tries to pull her arm back.
Cressida shakes her head with the dwindling energy she has left. "An…And what will James' parent's think? We'd have to tell them the truth." About being Animagus of course. They've all taken an oath not to reveal it to another soul unless that person could be trusted with their lives. And it's not that she doesn't trust Euphemia or Fleamont entirely – but their secret should continue to be a secret. She just needs some dittany and she'll be patched right up.
Sirius barely seems to have the patience to argue with her and she watches the annoyance wash over his face before it is replaced with submission and he nods hastily. "Fine. Fine." He retakes her arm and guides her around the side of the house where there are just grass and shrubs. Finally she can sit down and let her legs fall limp as they've been threatening to do so for the last few yards to the manor. Cressida slumps forward before being guided onto her back by firm hands. The one good thing is, is that the bullet went straight through and hasn't hit the artery that goes down to her arm – she'd have been dead ages ago. Sirius' wide eyes stare at her, realising that now he's gotten her to their safe place, he has to figure out how to stop the bleeding. "Dittany," he breathes, similar to her own thoughts. His right arm is covered in her blood, staining his skin in patches.
Without another word, Sirius sprints out of sight, leaving Cressida alone in the grass. Unable to manage the string of curse words that her mind desperately screams at her, she settles for placing her hand on the entry wound with screwed shut eyes and a prolonged groan. "God this is such a muggle way to go if I die!"
Sirius arrives back outside, but instead of a bottle of dittany, he holds to dark coloured towels. "There's none there," he spits and Cressida is thrown back to just an hour or so ago when she too had searched for it and came up empty-handed. Scraping his knees along the hard ground, Sirius folds one of the towels into a tight square then lifts her injured shoulder up – much to her verbal protest – and places the towel underneath her exit wound. "I know, princess, I know." The second towel he barely folds into a recognisable shape and presses it firmly against her shoulder so it acts as compression on both sides. With one hand pressing her into the ground, the other reaches for his wand store in the waistband of his pants. "I think I know a spell."
With her only fully functional limb, Cressida grabs the wand out of his hand and tosses it far off to her left. Sirius' jaw drops open, his glare switching between wherever his wand landed and herself. "You're not getting expelled," she hisses. "You've already had two warnings about underage magic, I highly doubt they'd be willing to give a third."
"What else am I supposed to do!?" he cries in anguish more than anger. "They don't even have a phone to call for an ambulance! There's no dittany and I don't know what else I can do!"
"James!" Cressida shrieks, baring her teeth. "I want James!" He might not have the answer but that's all she wants right now. Sirius grits his teeth, eyes darting between hers as he debates the only option she is giving him. What could James do that he couldn't? Not much in truth.
"We need his parents," Sirius growls. Cressida shakes her head again, though the action makes her sick in the stomach. They'd find out everything. And she can't stand to hear Euphemia's scolding that would surely rattle even Sirius' bones.
"James," she repeats in a low growl.
At his wit's end, Sirius grasps her uninjured arm and presses the hand against the towel to keep it in place before sprinting back towards the house. She has no idea how he's going to bring James back but those two have an uncanny ability to find each other.
In her moments alone, Cressida focuses on her breathing, pressing her heels into the dirt to feel some sort of grounding with the earth. Who is she blaming for this stupid situation? The hunters? Herself?
After less than a minute, Sirius reappears with a book in hand. Her confusion doesn't last long as he presses it towards her, along with a pencil. "James didn't take his mirror, but he carries that damn diary everywhere he goes." Placing them in her lap, he starts pushing her back up into a seated position. "I can't write in that thing – I've already tried."
Cressida goes to argue with him – this won't work. He won't have it on him and even if he does, what's the likelihood of James checking it within the next few minutes. And what's their game plan after this one? But it was her idea and her desire to call for him, so she shakily opens the book with the left hand and tries to write on the first page.
'James?'
They wait. Sirius' breath is louder than her own heartbeat as they stare at the book.
Cressida counts in her head.
…fifteen….sixteen…sevent-
'I've been waiting for you to get this out today.' Cressida's eyes close over in a lapse of relief at the same time Sirius breathes sharply, seeing a response being formed, but unable to read the words. 'I promise we can stay up all night together if you've missed me that much.'
Weakly, her hand raises back to the parchment but she swaps the pencil to her right hand, wanting her words to be legible enough. Through the pain that flares up her arm, the side of her palm rests against the parchment and she writes what she needs to.
'I need some help.'
The pencil falls from her grip, rolling off to the side. Reaching for it, her stomach lurches at the sight of her bloody imprint on the opposite page. "Is he coming?" Sirius demands. She wonders if the blood travels through to the other diary as well.
Cressida watches for a response, praying that he hadn't shoved the book away as a relative came over to talk to him or something. "I…I don't know."
Sirius begins to growl but halts himself, tossing her book to the side.
"Cressida!"
Sirius' head snaps in the direction of the house but she only manages to tilt her own. "Out here!" Sirius shrieks back. Even from outside, they can hear his heavy footfalls. It's a wonder that boy can sneak anywhere even with the cloak.
The back door swings open, clanging against the brick wall and Cressida manages to stretch her neck far enough to watch him leap down the stairs she had stopped Sirius from pulling her up.
"Cress?!"
Cressida nearly sobs in relief. "James," she calls, stretching her left arm out towards him. The towels drop from either side of her shoulders as she launches towards him as he skids his knees along the dirt in front of her. He catches her under her arms, fortunately - since she would not have been able to hold herself up. What a sight she must be. The both of them.
He puts the situation together before Sirius can even explain. James doesn't need to know the how yet. "Why haven't you gotten the dittany?" he demands, simply holding Cressida up as she presses her nose into the curve of his neck.
"Because there is none," Sirius hisses. "She won't let me use magic and even if I wanted to call for your Mum and Dad, I had no idea how to. We didn't exactly have time to send a bloody owl!"
"Okay!" James yelps back. "Okay…" Cressida feels his chest moving deeply, bouncing ever so slightly up and down on his legs. "My father – he has a bottle of Phoenix tears that Dumbledore gifted him. It's in his potion's lab downstairs in a clear vial with a silver topper. You won't miss it."
"Phoenix tears?" Sirius repeats.
James nods, picking up one of the abandoned towles and places it over the small hole in her back and shoulder. "It has healing properties."
Sirius scurries off towards the house leaving James to focus on adjusting her and Cressida to focus on him. She realises it was just panic making her think she might die – well if she stayed bleeding it was certainly a possibility – but it was the panic of not knowing what to do that brought that fear. Now she has no doubt that she'll be fine. It all seems a bit ridiculous and a bit of an overreaction on their part.
"Sirius was panicking so much he started calling me princess," she breathes out in a light chuckle. The pain still brings a few tears to her eyes but it's bearable for the moment.
James' hands loosen slightly then tighten even more so than before. "Do you like that nickname?" he questions. She almost doesn't hear him.
"No," she decides. "But coming from Sirius, yes."
"What about from me?"
"I'm not sure yet," she answers candidly, still tucked into his neck. He's distracting her. "Depends when you use I suppose." Her right-hand lays on the middle of his thigh and through the crack of her nearly closed eyes, Cressida eyes the messy patches of blood on his pants. "I'm sorry about the blood."
"You're not actually apologising for that are you?" James questions in a hushed hiss.
"I've got it!"
"Thank Merlin," she whispers, "because I am starting to feel a little woozy." A mix of the pain and blood loss is making her head feel light and her stomach sick. The towels drop as James snatches the small vial out of Sirius' hands, letting her weight lean against him to hold her up. One of her arms is wrapped around his neck, the other hand still resting on his leg.
"I don't know how this will feel," James says. He leans back slightly to make her move forward. She doesn't feel anything at first but then there is a slight tingling sensation and Cressida can physically feel her skin healing over. It's both amazing and strange – nothing like Dittany which stings and sizzles on the skin. "Now the front. Sirius."
Hands pull her away from James and her head lops against her friend's shoulder. James has blood all down his front. Cressida blanches at the thought of that being his own blood.
James leans forward with the vial in one hand and a dropper in another. Together, the vial wouldn't even be longer than her pinkie finger. He hovers the dropper over her shoulder and three droplets of Phoenix tears fall onto her skin. The same sensation happens again. Tingling.
Cressida watches it in amazement as the skin visible underneath the small hole in her shirt seams back together completely; not even the sign of scarring. "Damn," she murmurs.
James screws the vial lid back on, tossing it to the side like it isn't worth her entire fortune. "Go run a bath," he says over her shoulder. "And a fire."
Cressida leans forward on her own account as the pain numbs. There's still an odd sensation of it, but she puts it down to ghost pain. Sirius nods and slowly rises to his feet. The adrenaline must be finally running low again. She feels the same.
"I'm so sorry," she says after Sirius closes the back door behind him. "Sirius and I – we went for a walk in the woods but we went as Animagi and we weren't really thinking and-"
"Sirius can explain," James cuts her off. "Just… take a moment." His eyes are sullen and dark, the usual bright hazel storm now mute. Cressida nods, circling her shoulder around slightly to ward off the remaining ghost pain.
"Thank you," she says instead. "For coming." Leaning forward, she's regranted the luxury of being able to use both her arms to hug him. His already bloodstained clothes no doubt become more so, but he doesn't protest. Instead, he sinks further to the ground and pulls her in tighter.