Chapter 10: Changing Tides

If she hadn't felt useless before, she most certainly does now. The bottom half of her arms are completely out of use, mostly second-degree burns, with a few spots of third along her fingers and palms. Sirius' plan worked, despite the damage it did to the already existing burns, but Cressida can say more than anyone, that she's glad for that pain. The curse wouldn't have stopped.

From her elbows to the curve of her shoulders are a bright, flaming red like a harsh sunburn, but the damage is superficial and would heal over the next two weeks or so.

Though Remus was the one to seek out the medical supplies, it is Sirius who takes over using them. They stayed in the bathroom together until the others returned, damp and quiet. James brought her jeans and a singlet as he said he would but the priority was the pain before she even thought about moving her arms.

"I'm used to doing stuff like this," he tells her and James. Cressida and James sit on the edge of the deep tub, his hand slowly rubbing up and down her thigh. Sirius loosely wraps a bandage around her forearm. "Muggle healing," he adds. "When my father would… hurt me. I've picked up on a few things."

Cressida sniffs, smiling sympathetically. "I hope I'm a better roommate." Sirius lapses into an airy chuckle, nodding his head.

"What were you doing?" James finally asks.

Her eyes close, bouncing her now jean-clad legs. "We found a box," she tells him. "We thought it would have something inside it since it was protected."

"Did it?" he demands with a short huff. "Did you at least go through this for something important?"

Cressida's eyes flash in memory, thinking back to the ring that now sits in Elias' pocket. Her instinct tells her that it is what Dumbledore was searching for, or if it isn't, something powerful. The protection aimed to not only stop someone from finding it but kill them. "No," she answers. Sirius' brows flicker and she realises that she told him something different, but he doesn't voice that realisation. She has to figure out what it is. Then she will decide what happens to it. As long as Elias doesn't say anything first.

This is why Curse-Breakers are considered to have one of the most dangerous jobs. It's playing with Dark Magic.

She stares at the wound on his breast, watching how the tissue underneath moves as his arms do. The hand on her leg stops moving. Cressida looks down at it first, then trails her eyes up the owner's arm to the hazel rings. James has a wrinkle between his brows, hazel eyes burning a hole in the floor. She leans towards him, her already bandaged arm grazing over his leg. "Lost in thought?" she whispers.

James lifts his head with the expression of surprise, realising that he's still within the confinements of reality. It washes away within a second. "Yeah. Just thinking." The hand returns to its previous pattern, but rising higher along her thigh, fingers splaying wider. Cressida's stomach, despite the assortment of pain in her body, tightens at the sensual touch. She watches James from the corner of her eye but doesn't turn her head. Putting it down to him falling back into thought and not realising, she turns her focus back to Sirius. He is too focused on her arm to notice any slight changes in the room. Her heart hammers loudly into her ears, a multitude of feelings and emotions – both good and bad- circling for dominance in a melee.

"I think I'm done," Sirius mutters, tucking the tail of the bandage in. "Not hospital grade, but some skin growth tonics should at least have a minor healing effect. I'm going to go see if Moony brought something to ward off infection." Patting the outside of her closest knee, Sirius leaves the bathroom with a content composure.

Cressida takes a long draw of air, looking towards her singlet and cardigan that James brought. "Can you help me?"

"Sure," he hums, standing before she does, but instead of reaching for her top first, his hands reach around to her back for her bra strap.

"It's fine," Cressida says, shaking her head. "It's only damp. Dries quickly."

James only shrugs, continuing. "I brought a dry one."

Her brows pinch ferociously, peering at him with unease. Her voice raises, "James-". She cuts herself off, his hazel eyes widening and his movements pausing. What is he thinking of? "I'd rather not feel entirely naked right now." It adds to the sense of helplessness. A sensation that she's been trying to outright and has been successful for over a year.

"Okay," he whispers, the sound barely reaching her ears. "Okay, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." She raises a hand to his face but stops herself on only seeing white rather than her skin. "Just…What are you thinking about?"

"Just how scared I was," he laughs, bringing his hands up to her face. "You weren't answering the journal."

Sighing, she shrivels her nose. "Sorry, I got distracted and forgot about it." At James bitten cheek, which overwhelms her with guilt, she presses a kiss against his clothed chest. "I love you so much." His lips drop to her hair, staying there and she feels his lips widen in a small smile. That's what she wants more than anything. He just needs to be happy and she's fine.

"Marry me."

"One day."

Xx

Cressida sits in front of not only Alastor Moody, but Dumbledore as well. The Headmaster has graciously taken time away from his school duties to visit her half-mummified state. Elias leans against the door-frame, welcome to join, but acting as a pair of eyes more than a spokesperson.

"How are you feeling Miss Hawthorne? It looks like quite the injury." Dumbledore stands next to Alastor near the head of the small table. The Auror has his arms folded over his brown trenchcoat.

"It is," she hums. "Eating is going to be a pain."

"I'd imagine." There's something always so soothing about the way he talks. It draws the attention of students with only a few words, commanding ears and silence. Yet it is not the same voice she first heard coming into Hogwarts as a timid eleven-year-old. "I'm curious to know why someone would have gone to such a length to protect something."

"Me too." Dumbledore's lips tweak upwards with a contemplative nod, glancing towards Elias. "This stone, you have me searching for. What is it? I've been searching for a year now – maybe if I knew more about it, it would make my job easier."

Easier. She's already found it. That's what her gut is telling her.

Dumbledore, like he never does, does not answer at first. He pulls one of the wooden chairs from the table on the length adjacent to her, sitting down, leaning his side against the edge. "I suppose I owe you an explanation." Cressida holds her unamused grunt. "The stone you were looking for, would grant the wielder great power."

What type of power does it posses? And more importantly, how would it help them win this war.

"It has been a deep interest of mine to search for it for many years." His fingers, thick and wrinkled tap along the wood of the table. His nails are blunt and squared. "I've studied its history and traced the line of wizards that the stone fell into the possession of. Most recently, it was in the possession of the Riddle family."

"Voldemort's family."

"Indeed."

"And what could this stone do for us?" Cressida glances at Moody, noting his perking brow as though he is wondering the exact same thing. "How will this help us?"

Dumbledore's eyes have the faintest spark inside them; one that drills hope into her heart. But his answer infuriates her with the fires of hell. "That I'm not quite sure as of yet." Cressida's nose flares outwards, her insides boiling hotter than the curse ever did. He had her searching, for this damn stone for a year, out of his own personal interest. Not for the sake of the lives being risked. Not for the sake of the Muggles in danger and for the good of all people, but because of a strange fascination with a stone. "Tell me what you found today, Miss Hawthorne."

"A chest." Her voice is flat, eyes shifting to Elias. "It had a necklace inside it. I think it was an heirloom of some sort. I saw a portrait of a woman wearing it inside the house. Looked valuable."

Elias meets her gaze, his head lowering in the most subtle of nods. He would keep her secret for now.

Dumbledore's lips curl inwards. "Unfortunate," he laments. "I'm afraid I must return to Hogwarts. I do wish you the most eased recovery." He lays a hand on the table next to hers with a sympathetic expression to go with it before he rises once more, blue robes grazing the creaky floor. "I think Miss Hawthorne deserves a short break, Alastor. Perhaps it is time to turn her focus elsewhere."

"Indefinitely?" The Auror questions roughly.

Dumbledore peers down at her. Her white bandaged arms stretch out over the table. Her body is doused in pain tonic. "Until otherwise," he decides. His smile lifts as he brushes past Elias. "Good evening, Mr Griffiths. I hope you're doing well."

"Pleasantly," Elias smiles. He's either a much better actor than her, or he is still unsure about what to think. Dumbledore nods contently, continuing past into the main room of the safe house. Elias stays at the threshold, watching Moody trail out after. Once their sound disappears, he saunters towards her, taking the seat abandoned by Dumbledore. His hand digs into his pocket, and with a heavy clang, places the ring on the table in front of her. "That's it, isn't it?"

"I believe it is." It sits there, heavier than any metal on earth. "You're not going to say anything?"

Elias smiles straight, leaning back against the spine of the chair with a quick glance over his shoulder. His eyes drop to his lap, the smile only broadening. "I trust you more than I trust Dumbledore. Especially after that. You could have died for his own selfish gain."

"We don't know what it does yet," she grumbles, biting the inside of her lip. "But thank you. You probably should trust one of the most powerful and well-trusted wizards of our time, but I'm just following what my gut says."

"And what's your gut telling you now?"

Cressida sits up straighter, her brows furrowed in heavy thought. "That I'm starving," she answers loudly. "Like my gut is grumbling in pain."

Elias slides from the chair with a warm laugh. "I'll go see what I can scrap up for food." His laughter continues as he leaves the meeting room, leaving Cressida alone with the stone. She leans close, her fingers are bandaged together loosely, leaving them somewhat free to move. And she'll take advantage of using them whilst the pain is at bay. She pokes the ring, watching it shift along the wood.

Hearing footsteps approaching, Cressida places her hand over the ring, sliding it closer to her chest. James appears at the doorway. "Heard you want dinner. Do you want to stay here or come to my place and I'll cook you up something?"

Cressida smiles bashfully, glancing at the wall as though she could see through to the kitchen on the other side. "I don't trust Elias' cooking." James laughs, gesturing for her to join his side. Smiling, she carefully slides her hand along the table, pinching the ring between two of her fingers. As she walks towards him, she shoves it deep into her back pocket. "Can we have lasagne?"

"You can have anything you want, darling."