Chapter 11: The Finest Detention

"…yes, yes. Very well." Slughorn peers around the potions classroom with his hands stuffed into the small pockets of his waistcoat. "I'll return in an hour and I expect you'll do a marvellous job." He nods firmly before meandering out of his own classroom.

Cressida shakes her head slowly at him. "What a strange man," she muses.

Sirius, her detention partner, only snorts. They had been split up over two rooms on opposite sides of the dungeons. Typically, first to fourth years use the lower-grade rooms and the fifth years and above have access to the advanced labs but this particular third-year potions class had to be moved as their mess couldn't be cleaned up in the span of ten minutes between classes.

James, Remus and Peter have been allocated the other potions classroom and no doubt, McGonagall had Sirius and James split up to prevent any further mishaps. However, none but the group themselves are aware of a small, enchanted tool they carry.

Cressida takes Sirius' cue and cracks open the door. Slughorn is nowhere in sight. "It's all clear."

Grinning like a panting dog, Sirius plants his behind on Slughorn's chair at the front desk, placing each foot onto the dark wood. He stretches his arms behind his head in a lazy manner. Usually, Cressida would berate him and work her charm to make him feel guilty enough to help out with detention, but he knows what she knows.

Pulling out the wand hidden under her jacket and tucked into the hemming of her school skirt, Cressida jumps onto the desk and knocks his legs away. Within a few charms, the broom in the far corner is brushing along the floor, things begin to replace themselves in storage and the marks on the floor begins to dissolve.

The pair watch on, smug at their actions. "Think we should check on the others?" Sirius ponders are ten or so minutes of doing nothing.

"He's going to be pissed," she warns, but nevertheless, heaves Sirius' bag off the floor for him. His dark hair hangs around his face as Sirius delves into his belongings, searching for the mirror.

"Yeah, it's going to be great," Sirius grins.

Being the only one with a wand in hand, Cressida taps the mirror with the wand as they both lean across the desk. "James," she summons. Their own reflections disappear, turning into a cloud of grey mist then into something else entirely.

She can hear their voices in the distance, but there is no movement in the mirror. Cressida realises that the mirror is lain down, facing the ceiling. "Oi, four-eyes!" Sirius hisses loudly.

They hear a quick scuffle and James calling out to the others. The image on the mirror jolts around, finally settling on their friend's face. "Aye," James greets. He shuffles around, liking finding a seat on one of the desks. "We are going to get this done so much quicker than you. Three against two."

"Didn't realise it was a competition," Cressida counters. "Besides, it's not like we get out early."

"Everything is a competition," James retorts. In the background, Cressida and Sirius can see Remus sweeping up broken glass and Peter scrubbing the stone with enough elbow grease to wear the entire thing away.

"Well first of all, it looks like it's still two against two," Sirius goads, noting James' lack of help like she has. "And second of all, we're done anyway."

James' eyes narrow, his nose scrunching in disbelief. "Bullshit," he cries. Cressida and Sirius glance at each other, only shrugging smugly before spinning the mirror around so he can see their spectacular work. As the mirror returns to their faces, Cressida laughs wildly at James' flabbergasted features and Remus and Peter's face over each of his shoulder's. "They took our wands! Well, all yours anyways. I must have lost mine in Filch's office somewhere. That's going to be fun trying to get back."

As per usual, their wands have been confiscated for the duration of detention to make it…well…more detention like. It wouldn't be a punishment if their wands could do all the work for them. And Slughorn had taken their wands and Cressida suspects her own is inside his office. However, it isn't the only wand she had on hand.

Cressida draws a smirk that she knows she learnt from Sirius, slowly raising the tip of the wand to rest against the apple of her cheek. The mirror is snatched out of James' hands by Remus. The scars on his face shrink and shrivel as he peers closely into the glass on his own end. "I-Is that a wand?! How the bloody hell do you have yours?"

Sirius and Cressida laugh liberally, the mirror dropping slightly as their heads fall backwards, hands on chests.

"Oi- give…Give me that!" The mirror is violently snatched back and as Sirius and Cressida calm themselves, they raise the mirror once more to find James' face nearly pressed up against it, Remus and Peter no longer in view. Cressida keeps the wand in view, twirling it around in front of her face. "That's my fucking wand," James hisses. He looks away, repeating those words to his friends as though they hadn't heard him the first time. "They have my wand."

"Cressida does," Sirius corrects. Likely wanting to save his own arse. "I am simply a bystander who reaps the rewards."

"Your wand likes me, James," Cressida smiles. "Performed all the cleaning charms perfectly." James' eyes narrow, his ears turning red which only makes her laugh harder. Of course that would make him fume. Turning to Sirius, she mutters, "He's so easy."

James' mouth opens wide with a retaliation at the ready but Peter scurries back into view from the other end of the classroom. "Slughorn's in the corridor," he warns.

James' makes a quick gesture of farewell before the image disappears and Cressida and Sirius see themselves in the mirror once more. Sirius holds it up higher, almost posing. "I like this image better than James."

Cressida laughs again. She wonders if any other students ever have more fun in detention than they do in classes. "I'm sure. Remus told me all about how you spend your mornings in the bathroom. And when we had to share a bathroom at James' house. Merlin that was painful."

Sirius scowls teasingly at her, tucking the mirror away. "I had to deal with your hair everywhere."

Eventually their detention comes to an end. Not that it's exactly a joyous occasion to leave since not much changes but perhaps not having to smell burnt frog skin is cause to celebrate alone. Sirius and Cressida wait out on the corridor alone for the rest of their friends, Cressida still twirling James' wand between her fingers, her own back in her bun. "Quidditch teams are released tonight," she muses. "Who do you reckon is the other beater?"

"Alistair," Sirius answers immediately. "If Baxton didn't put him on the team I'd question his sanity. The man has a mean swing."

Cressida hums in agreement, recalling the wince she made during try-outs after his bludger broke a third-year's broom into pieces. Fortunately, Baxton had flown quickly enough to catch him before a fall that would have broken a few bones.

Have you talked with your brother much?"

"Not really." The answer is blank and empty, intending not to give her much. She watches a wall slowly build behind his grey eyes; the crossing of his arms and a new rigidness in his features.

Sighing softly, Cressida leans against the wall next to him. Her fingers reach out, brushing against the sleeve of his grey school jacket. She feels no resistance in his muscles, his back pressing against the wall, eyes simply staring ahead. The side of her lips tweak up sympathetically, reaching out further but he pulls his arm towards himself. Her fingers splay out, letting the fabric escape them but they close back in content as the arm lays around her shoulders instead.

Sirius' eyes turn away from the bleak wall, and with a soft smile that does reach his eyes, says, "I'm fine." Cressida stares at him a little longer, trying to draw more from him. It seems to work as he slouches even more. "I don't know how I'm going to go back at the end of the year, Cress. I really don't."

"Don't." Cressida straightens her back, pushing off the wall by turns to stay in his hold. "You know as well as I do that James would let you stay at his place. And hell, I know my house isn't exactly as great as his but my father's away enough that he would barely be around if you can't stay at the Potters."

Sirius looks down at the slither of floor between them. "It's easy enough to think about. It's what I think about a lot of the time."' The grey eyes meet hers again. "But doing it is a whole other thing. It's not a choice I can take back."

Cressida nods softly. "Don't feel like you can't talk about it, at least. Even if you want to go to the astronomy tower in the middle of the night before an exam." Sirius braves a meek smile, searching her eyes as though waiting for her to confirm the offer. And she would have if the remaining three didn't show up.

"Where's my wand, Hawthorne?!"

James marches towards them, his arm extended. He has a wand, likely Peter's, pointed directly at her. Cressida raises his own wand cheekily, spinning it between her fingers as her habit has her do.

"Locomotor Mortis!"

A zap of purple light hits her chest and without her consent, Cressida's legs become stuck together like a rope has snaked around them. She cackles loudly, falling backwards towards the ground. Her fall is abrupted by Sirius' half-helping hand but ultimately, she's sitting on the ground. James grins madly, marching towards her as Remus and Peter meander up from behind.

"My wand," he demands, but Cressida shakes her head, holding the wood close to her chest and tucked under her arms. "Cress, give me my wand."

Despite his valiant efforts to look mad at first, James' amusement cannot be kept at bay and his face betrays his words. Hunching in on herself, Cressida folds into a ball with the wand at the centre. James' laugh sounds in her ears as his efforts are put into trying to dig his way under her arms.

Eventually a few fingers weasel their way to the stick. Not wanting it to snap or crack, but neither wanting to give it up so easily, Cressida pinches her brows, leaning forward. "What's the magic word?"

James pauses his tug-of-war. "I don't know, Cress, there's a lot of them," he remarks sarcastically.

Rolling her eyes, she corrects herself. "What's the muggle magic word?" She cocks her chin out, tilting it to the side as though to emphasise her point. He's leaning over her back, and she can feel his chest pressing against the point of her shoulder.

James matches her position mockingly, blinking slowly. "Please," he reluctantly breathes. She changes her expression to an innocent raise of cheeks. She leans back ever so slightly, pressing a kiss to his cheek and then lets go of the wand completely.

"Now do the counter curse," she demands. "Come on, I'm hungry."