Chapter 16: More Strange Encounters

Cressida stares at the paper in Peter's hands, her eyes caught by the sight of a ghostly skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth, floating in the sky with an emerald hue. That's the fifth time she's seen it in the past year.

"No doubt Voldemort was a Slytherin if he came to Hogwarts," she says bitterly. Peter stares at the image, making no sign of hearing her words until he snaps out of his thoughts and nods quickly but makes no comment. He folds the paper inwards, hiding the front cover and places it to the side. Seeing that no conversation will be made out of him this morning, Cressida turns her head to James who sits opposite her. Perching her chin on folded fingers, she says, "James. I can't help but feel nervous that you won't tell us who you're putting on the team this year."

James clicks his tongue against his cheek, pointing the prongs of his fork at her. "Ah, I'm not telling anybody. Just because you're my friend, doesn't mean you get special treatment. Can't have people thinking I'm an unfair leader."

Cressida huffs, eyes flicking down at her bowl. "Trust me, nobody thinks that." Especially not when he's exceptionally hard on her. On the pitch, she's a red blur with a number on the back that has one job and that's to keep the quaffle out of the rings. Replacing the mirthful expression, she looks back up. "At least do me a favour and confirm that I'm the Keeper?"

James offers her a tight smile – no he won't, it tells her, but there's a hesitance that he's trying to hide. A grimace. Cressida sees it just in time before he looks off to the side. Her stomach churns around her breakfast, a nauseating sensation rising up through to her throat. Is she not on the team this year? Last year hurt more than she could imagine it to and that was coming from somebody she barely called an acquaintance. Her try-outs had been fine, as far as she is aware. Why had James given that look?

"I'll meet you at class," Cressida spits out, already halfway from her seat. There's a noise in the background that is distinctly familiar, but all her attention takes note of is the constantly rising nausea inside her stomach and throat, threatening to erupt at any point. With a hand on her stomach, Cressida marches quickly out of the Great Hall and towards the closest bathroom.

Her elbow jars against a stall's door, her knees falling to the tiled floor in front of the toilet. Unbearable heat flushes through her face and back. One hand stays on her stomach, willing it to calm and the other brushes her hair back, preparing for the worst.

The worst doesn't come.

With a heavy sigh, Cressida leans against the side of the stall and lets her eyes close. Where did that even come from, she wonders? Quidditch means a lot to her, but enough to make her run out of breakfast and nearly puke?

But there is undoubtedly something going on with James and Quidditch. That pathetic smile he tried to give her just… shook something inside of her that wasn't prepared for the uncertainty. How could she be so insecure about her position when James himself assured her last year that he would keep her on the team when he is Captain. There's no maybe, he had said to her.

But he also said back on the train in fifth year that she wouldn't be on the team this year. Of course, that was a complete taunt at the time that nobody took seriously. Would James do that? Even if maybe there was someone better, would he replace her? Of course he would. The Quidditch Cup is his goal.

There were two other people trying out for her spot. A third year who thinks he's the up-and-coming Quidditch protégé and a seventh-year boy who's been trying out since second year for every position. Andrews didn't bother even coming to watch at least. Cressida hadn't paid enough attention to them to even think of them as threats.

She's not on the team. It's the only reason. The only reason James would be so secretive about it and the only reason he wouldn't have winked or smirked at her instead of that stupid grimace. She couldn't even deny what her eyes saw because even just next to him, Sirius kept his eyes turned away – a sure sign that he knew something she doesn't.

"Fucking hell," she whispers, the back of her head thudding against the stall. At least this time she can prepare herself not to see her name on the list. Why would he do this to her after everything that happened last year?

Flicking her wrist out, her disdain grows at the sight of the time. Class starts in a few minutes. Gathering herself into something that is flat and maintainable, Cressida rises to her feet and strides out of the stall.

Her feet stop short of the bathroom exit though as an unexpected, and frankly unwelcome guest stands near the door. Regulus looks as uncomfortable as a mouse in a cage of birds. He is standing in the girls' lavatory. Her eyes trace down his arm where a wand points towards the floor. Her stomach drops – as though it already hasn't done enough somersaults today – and instinctively reaches for her wand but the weight of it is gone.

Regulus raises his arm, the tip of the wand pointing now at her. Cressida's feet shift; her muscles tensing and preparing to duck to the side. "You dropped this." The first thing to run through her mind is – that doesn't sound like a spell.

Her gaze drops to the wand that now points downwards, swinging between two of his fingers. Her wand. Slowly, she walks forward and takes it back, stuffing it in the back of her skirt waistband. "Why were you following me?" she questions stiffly. He had been in the Great Hall when she left. She'd watched him come in.

"I wasn't," Regulus answers with a tone that mixed with both mirth and caution. "I have Charms and my classroom is down this way. I left early because I wanted to speak to Flitwick about something." Cressida nods. The answer is more than she expected. Regulus breathes out audibly, glancing around. "You still haven't said thanks."

"What?"

"For finding your wand."

Cressida's jaw clenches. "I'm sure if your buddies were around, you wouldn't have done it."

"No," he agrees quickly with a slither of a smirk showing. It's almost like looking at Sirius. "But it just so happens that I was alone. So I'd like my thanks."

Licking her teeth, she nods. "Thank you. But I'm sure I would have found it when I went back out." Her eyes narrow. "Why'd you even follow me in here. You could've waited outside."

He shrugs, not seeming concerned that he would be discovered in a girls' lavatory. "Wasn't sure when you were going to come out. I thought I might just have to chuck the wand over the door."

"But then you wouldn't have the pleasure of knowing that I knew it was you who brought my wand back," she finishes. "You should go, before everybody is in the corridor and sees you."

"I should." Regulus turns around leisurely, striding back out of the bathroom and leaves Cressida in a world of disorder. That's two things today – two things that she thought she wasn't anticipating. She waits a few minutes, standing alone and in silence while the sound of students' rambling seeps in under the entrance doorframe.

Wringing her hands around each other and resetting herself with an extended breath out, Cressida also strides out of the bathroom and into the now busy hall. Almost immediately she spots a familiar lanky figure. "Remus?" she calls. He turns around, shoulders sagging. "D.A.D.A is that way," she draws out, pointing in the opposite direction he was going.

"Looking for you," he breathes in answer. "You alright? You looked a little flustered when you left so we just wanted to make sure you weren't sick or something."

Her hand unconsciously raises back to her stomach. "No, I'm fine," she mutters. "We're going to be late."

Remus nods but then gestures to her shoulder bag. "Can you do me a favour and respond to James? He and Sirius headed towards the tower. I think Pete said he would head to Transfiguration in case you did actually go there and wondered where we went."

Cressida frowns. "Oh." Her hand dives into her bag, pulling out the diary. Flicking open, on the first page is a short message with James' neat handwriting asking her if she is alright and where she's going. It's sweet and kind, even finished off with a small 'x'. Her hand reaches back into her bag, scrambling for the pencil she brought from home this time purely for the convenience of writing in this diary without having to get out ink. Her response is quick and written on the go as they head towards McGonagall's class.

Cressida takes her seat next to Peter, smiling softly at him whilst the rest of the class fill up the seats around them. James and Sirius still haven't arrived by the time McGonagall is charming the chalk to write on the blackboard so she keeps the two-way diary open, waiting to see any response.

By the time they do strut in, McGonagall's patience has grown thin. "Mister Potter, Mister Black. I would have thought by sixth year you would have learned where all your classrooms are. Or at least that tardiness would earn you a detention this afternoon cleaning the Trophy Room."

Cressida's lips part and a breath of guilt passes over them. Could she not do right today? "Apologies," James responds swiftly and smoothly. The pair walk towards their shared desk just in front of hers. As they pass, Sirius glances over his shoulder down to her.

"I'm sorry," she mouths. She knows they don't care that much for detention, but at least usually they do deserve it for one reason or another. Sirius smiles from one corner of his mouth, shrugging as though to say 'whatever'. Her heart lurches as James does not look back at her. In attempts to ignore him, Cressida goes back to writing notes. To make for more room on her desk, she grabs the diary and is about to close it but she notices the same leather just poking off the edge of the desk in front of her. Her eyes scan over the page. Just there, underneath her response is a small smiley face. Cressida smiles softly, closing the book more softly and tucks it neatly back in her bag.

At the end of the class, everybody quickly packs their belongings, including Cressida but she takes the liberty of lingering around while they file out of the classroom.

"Coming?"

Cressida glances over her shoulder, smiling at James who is half-turned and waiting for her. "Wait for me outside?" James purses his bottom lip, nodding. After she can no longer see him, she looks back to McGonagall who is waiting expectantly. Cressida saunters towards her Head of House, wringing her fingers together. "Professor, I know this might be a stretch, but I was wondering if you might relieve James and Sirius from detention this afternoon? They were looking for me, you see, because I left breakfast early this morning and they didn't know where I was. I can take the detention since it was technically my fault."

McGonagall sighs with tight lips, looking unimpressed but there's a tint of something soft behind her eyes. "I see. I cannot excuse their tardiness completely." Cressida nods remorsefully. "Five points each," McGonagall announces. "And you can tell Mister Black and Potter that they are free to spend their afternoon as they please. No doubt they'll do something else to earn themselves detention anyway; might as well be for something worthwhile."

Cressida exhales loudly, nodding hastily. "Thank you, Professor." McGonagall nods in response and gestures towards the door with her head telling her to get a hurry along.