Chapter 7: Comforts of Familiarity
Sirius' chewing is obnoxiously loud, and Cressida is balancing on the threshold of snapping at him. The only force swaying her from not toppling over is the arm resting along the back of her counter chair, the fingers of the owner softly drifting up and down the back of her rib cage.
"So, Cressida." Her eyes sharpen at the elongation of her name that falls from Sirius' dog-like grinning lips. "Why does your mother not know your name? She called her Elizabeth," he adds for context for James.
Cressida breathes a brief sigh of relief, knowing that out of the many topics to talk about, this one is the easiest. "Oh, Elizabeth is my first name," she answers. "Cressida is my second and I just prefer that one."
"I knew I wasn't crazy!" James crows, drawing two pairs of wide eyes. "I've had this memory of our sorting where the name Elizabeth was called, and you went up. But you introduced yourself as Cressida, so I thought I just misheard it."
"Why didn't we know this?" Sirius questions her in an accusatory tone.
"If Cressida was my first name, then what would you have thought my middle name was?" she retorts, smiling at the both of them. Neither can come up with an answer. "You didn't ask, so I didn't tell. I just consider Elizabeth to be my second name."
Sirius points his half-eaten croissant at her. "So if you're pissing me off, and I need to use your full name, should I put Elizabeth first or second."
Cressida smirks. "You put it first and I'll know to run." He takes her answer with a thoughtful nod. Her smirk wavers, mind travelling to a broken mirror in her trunk. "Your mirrors," she begins slowly and softly. "Are they easy to fix, by any chance?"
James snorts in answer which makes her anxiousness grow, but it quickly dissolves at his next words. "You think we haven't broken them before? A good reparo charm is usually fine. Charms are your speciality anyway."
Cressida nods in agreement, knowing another part of that day is about to be brought up. "They are. But I can't. I have the mirror but I don't have my wand."
The mood of the small flat simmers down. "That's fine," Sirius breathes in a comforting tone and a nod of confidence, "I can go back and get it for you."
Cressida stares down at the table, wringing her hands around one another. "Thank you, but, there's no point in trying to get back. The mirror wasn't the only thing he broke."
Sirius' features sharpen. "He broke your wand?" Cressida nods, her ears hearing the phantom sound of the snapping all over again. It's just a material thing, but one that's had her back for seven years.
The hand stroking the back of her ribcage halts. Less than a second later, the fingers are furling tightly around her shirt and James slides off his chair. "How long didn't you have a wand?"
"Just a few days."
Sirius' nose flares "There's not many moments when I agree with my family, but fucking hell Muggles can be the most idiotic bunch I've ever come across. Do they not understand how defenceless that leaves you!?" He stuffs the rest of his croissant in his mouth and stalks towards his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Cressida watches the closed door for some time.
"He's right," James says, his voice long and low. "And you should have told me."
"I was figuring it all out," Cressida tries to dismiss. She was trying to figure things out. If Sirius hadn't come, she would have… done something. "Muggles survive every day without magic, you know."
James shakes his head once. "I still wasn't right," he growls. "At the risk of sounding like Sirius, I want to kill them right now." He swerves around to the back of her chair, pressing his forehead against the back of her shoulder. Cressida bows her head slightly, thinking of what she could say to make everything sound better.
Slowly, she pushes her chair around. James lifts his head just as her arms creep under his, stretching the canvas of his back. She feels him slouch, one arm circling around near her waist, the other holding her head against his chest. "Well, lucky I have you two idiots."
After a few minutes, they part.
Her lips twist around, using her arms to swing the chair slightly. "Is everything okay?" she asks, referring to that morning where he had drifted in conversation. "You sort of went quiet at breakfast."
James blinks, shaking his head. "No, I'm fine," he smiles. It forms so easily that she has no reason not to believe him. Her silence, though, gives him more space to continue. "I just… Was thinking about McMullen. His motives for wanting to date you were disgusting."
Cressida shrugs. "He was using me to get closer to you guys. I knew that, for way too long."
That baffles James. "Then why did you go out with him?"
Cressida shrugs again, although the answer comes to her immediately. "I was an idiot craving some attention," she admits softly. "He was giving it to me." Her cheeks flare in the confession which she knows shines badly on her as well as Arthur. Would James think she's an attention whore of some sort?
"I'm sorry." Her eyes shoot up from the spot on the ground they were pointed at. That is not the response she expected. "You clearly needed us around. I knew something was wrong as soon as you said you were staying back for Christmas, and I acted like an idiot when I got back."
Cressida doesn't know how to respond. James smiles tightly, his hazel eyes only staying on her briefly before floating down to look at his other hand, which taps against the bench. "Me too. I didn't mean to snap at you at quidditch practice and then I was upset because I didn't think you wrote to me at Christmas. Then I had somehow hurt you at the feast."
She only realises just then as the words pour from her lips like a tightly held secret finally being confessed that James had thought she called him an inadequate choice. He was under the impression that she had gotten his letter then. At least Sirius explained enough to him so there is no reason that that hurt would still linger because she does not know how to form a good apology without giving away that she now has the letter.
"Promise me that next time you're feeling lonely, you'll just come to me." James smiles, his head tilting to the side. His tone is mirthful but sincere, eyes looking for an honest answer. "I don't care if I'm talking to Professor Dumbledore, or I'm surrounded by hot women. I want you to come to me. Fucking sit on my lap for all I care, just anything but going to douchebags who don't give any fucks about you."
"I will," she promises, not even thinking about her answer before it comes. It feels natural.
Xx
Euphemia stands in front of her son and his two friends, hands folded into knuckles and pressing against her hips. "There's no stopping you lot, is there?" she questions, both exasperated and amused. Cressida stands with her trunk by her side, her fingers curled around the back of Sirius' shirt. She has no true reason to worry herself over James' parents. She would only be staying an extra two weeks longer than she usually does, but it still feels like she is asking too much of them. Euphemia shortens the gap between them, her hands lifting from her hips and her soft palms encasing Cressida's cheeks. "You are always most welcome here, my dear. James, on the other hand, has to leave as soon as he turns twenty."
"Sometimes I believe that I'm their favourite because I'm their only son," James says to no one in particular, "but then I realise that my friends will always be their favourites over me."
Euphemia sends a loving, but terribly teasing glance at her son. "You're my favourite son."
"Because that makes it better," James snorts. He wanders off into his home, the small magically extended bag swung over his shoulder. "Make yourself at home!" he calls to her over his shoulder.
"Thank you," Cressida says to Euphemia. The younger girl pulls James' mother into a tight embrace, welcoming the motherly warmth that she emits. Euphemia would protect her. She would stand up for children that are not even her own. A mother deserving of love. "I'll be on my best behaviour."
Euphemia laughs; a velvet and chocolaty sound. "I'm sure that will last a week. Don't tell James, but I will miss all your shenanigans when you all move away."
"We'll be sure to come visit in the holidays," Sirius grins. "Maybe with kids to take our places one day."
Euphemia places a hand against her chest, bottom lip pouting. "Grandchildren," she repeats longingly. "Oh I can't wait! Fleamont!" The older woman turns around, already marching towards her husband's office. "We need to start thinking about spaces for grandchildren!"
"We still have five of our own!"
Sirius laughs freely whilst Cressida smiles widely enough that her cheeks press against her eyes. She turns into him, eyes sore and tired, so she closes them and rests her forehead against his sternum. "You're going to stop worrying about me now?"
His answer comes quickly. "No. I don't think I ever will."
She really should have expected that answer. "Do you want to keep me company for a while? I want a nap but I don't want to be alone."
"I suppose I can do that."
They take her belongings up to her room, leaving them untouched until she can gather enough energy to put things away properly. It is evident, even if he hadn't told her, that James had been in her room. He must have had a bit of fun with it as well, since all the photos she had left here that did not have him on them are now facing downwards. Her draws are slightly ajar and the neatly lain out dresser's desk space now looks uneven and disrupted.
Sirius immediately notices the photographs as well as he goes directly to her nightstand, picking up the one that she keeps there. "Rude," he mutters, placing it back up to reveal a smiling Sirius, Remus and Cressida in their first summer together. She had a small gap in her front teeth back then.
As he continues around her room, placing the photos back upright, Cressida sits down on her bed, watching him with fondness. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Sirius pauses, glancing over his shoulder as he tidies her desktop. He shakes his head, readjusting all her photos and trinkets. "No."
She isn't surprised he knows what she is referring to. "Can you at least tell me why? Why this year? What's so different that you wouldn't even let me stay at home for a month."
"I said no." His tone stays soft but firm. His shoulders drop. "Just something was telling me to."
"Like your gut?" Cressida guesses.
Sirius nods. "Yeah." He moves to her far wall, examining the window which is unlocked but closed. "You want to sleep, right?" Cressida nods. He flips the latch, locking the window down and tests it against his strength. That is an odd thing for him to do–something he's never done before. Her first thought is that he's preventing her from leaving, but that would be utterly useless going inside out.
He sits down on the opposite side of the bed, pulling his wand from his pocket. She waits for him to cast some spell as one would naturally expect, but he only holds onto it. Kicking off his shoes, he lies down first, one arm stretching behind his head and the other with the wand laying over his stomach. Cressida follows suit, pulling the cover over herself. "Are you going to sleep too?"
Sirius thinks on her question. "I think I'm going to stay up for a while. Just… watch over."
