Chapter 15: Layla

The owlery isn't somewhere Cressida Hawthorne finds herself at very often. Maybe a few times a year to send a letter back home but other than her mother - everybody she desires to talk to is already at Hogwarts. But it's the only place she knows of that's both noisy enough to cancel out her thoughts, but quiet enough to keep to herself.

Taking the opportunity while she's there, she takes out a spare piece of parchment and ink to write out a letter to her mother, informing them she'll not be returning for Christmas this year.

Sealing it with a pressed fold and finding a school owl, she sends it off before she can begin to doubt her choice.

"You bitching about me to your mother?"

Cressida had spotted him coming beforehand through one of the windows. She'd also seen Peter scampering around about twenty minutes prior. James' question doesn't come with any hint of malic, instead with a tint of humour.

"I wouldn't blame you," he continues at her lack of response. His hand runs through his dishevelled hair before joining the other in his pockets. "I feel like shit now."

Cressida stares at the ground in front of his feet. "I told you not to." She looks up. His face is bleak and dull, and the typically handsome mess of hair now just looks wind-blown. "Why didn't you listen to me?"

His tongue rolls over his bottom lip as he takes a moment of thought to answer. "I thought I knew what was best." A brave confession, she notes. One that wouldn't often come from a boy like James. His lips press tightly together, a small sway in his stance. "Clearly I didn't." Cressida still doesn't say anything, only watching him from the steps she sits upon. "Sirius said you might not want to be on the team anymore."

Her head falls. "I didn't mean that," she confesses. James wanders over, sitting down on the right side of the step just below her. His hands leave his pockets, one stretching up to press against the step she's sitting on, the other laying over his own knee.

"I'd guessed that," he murmurs. "But talk to me, Cress. It's like you don't want me to get Andrews off the team or something."

Cressida holds her tongue for a minute, focusing on pulling the skin around her fingers. It feels stupid to admit everything, since it doesn't make sense even in her own head. Nevertheless, she slides down one step, joining the same one that he's on. "I just…. Spent the last month convincing myself that I don't deserve to be on the team. That I have better things to do with my time. And now that we've realised Andrews practically bribed his way on, I still can't force those defences away. I don't want to make a scene. I don't want rumours going around about this. I want to be on the team because the Captain told me."

James nods slowly at her words. "I can…understand that." A small chip of stress breaks away from her heart. "And I've just realised I haven't technically apologised yet, so, I'm sorry. I didn't listen to you."

Cressida smiles meekly, shrugging ever so lightly. "It's fine. I threw water on you in front of everyone."

James hums in acknowledgement. "Yeah, quite a few people saw that one." She can't help but laugh along with him. "Bad news is, is that Braxton is being stubborn and won't change anything. Good news is that he knows we know, and that's going to make him wary of us. After the first game, I reckon he'll feel stressed enough to kick Andrews off or we threaten to tell McGonagall about it."

McGonagall, the just woman she is, wouldn't stand for such behaviour coming from her own house. The pair sit on that thought for a while, both content to just listen to the owls squawk at each other.

"You're wrong, you know?"

James' brows raise over the rim of his glasses. "Huh?"

"About Lily. I told you that she hasn't seen you yet, and you said she has." Cressida shakes her head. "But I was right; she hasn't. I don't think many people do." Her head tips forward to press her point. "The world likes to see James Potter as a Quidditch protegee, a trouble-maker, and mischief-maker. And he is all that, and by Merlin does he know it." She watches him struggle to hold the side of his lips pull up. "But he's also sweet, loyal, protective, brave."

His eyes lingered on her shoes for most of her small speech and they continue to do so for another few moments afterwards. But they lift eventually with a twinkle that had disappeared very much earlier that day. "You know, I came out here to try and make you feel better as well as apologise. Yet here you are, boosting my own ego."

Cressida shrugs, feeling unbothered by the conversation. "Don't worry about me," she says.

James' posture changes back into the one he sets in public. The confident stride and strong shoulders. "No," he laughs, patting her knee. "Let's worry about Sirius being sulky because we're missing his birthday."

Cressida nearly gasps at the overwhelming guilt that splashes down on her like a broken dam. "I can't believe I forgot."

Within seconds, the pair are sprinting out of the owlery, still trying to put their bags back on as they traverse over Hogwarts' bridges.

Xx

While Remus is drunkenly impersonating Dumbledore, Cressida hands Sirius a wrapped parcel. He had been mopey when she and James found him once more, and rightfully so in her opinion. You only get one birthday a year. But his moodiness quickly evaporated once Cressida had apologised.

"Thank you."

"Oi!" All eyes snap to Remus who's glaring at the small parcel. "Why's he getting presents?!"

James looks at him incredulously. "Cause it's his birthday, nitwit," he barks, scuffing Remus along the back of his head. Remus winces, holding the area. James leans forward, plucking the dark-coloured glass from Remus' hold. "Time to pass this around."

James takes a quick swig of it for himself. "Hey!" Cressida cries. "You had it first, it's mine now." As Sirius begins unwrapping her present for him, she launches forward, reaching out for the bottle in James' hand. He leans back, holding it above his head.

The entire group is seated on the floor of the boys' dorm which is covered with blankets and cushions with the anticipation of a long night ahead. James's other hand pushes on her upper chest. "No, no, no." He tries so adamantly at keeping the alcohol away, she's almost content to give up but his mischievous smirk taunts her enough to keep going.

James had given Sirius a muggle record player that's been enchanted to recall any song that's been played on it. So of course, James had spent ages through the past Summer holiday playing records on it that he borrowed from both Remus and Cressida and now the player has a plethora of music without the need for a single record. And now it plays in the background, making the night all that bit better.

James leans so far back that his elbow drives into the ground. The frames on his face are askew but apparently, the drink is more important. "I just want a sip," Cressida giggles, a hand still outreaching. "James, I'm not going to drink it all."

"That's what you said last time," he scoffs before laughing once more as Cressida goes to snatch it.

"A snowglobe?"

Temporarily giving up her endeavours, Cressida sinks back to the floor next to James, turning to face Sirius. He's smiling – and a little tipsy – but curiosity rules his features. Cressida does admit that it seems like a strange present at first, especially for someone like Sirius. "Wind it up," she instructs.

Sirius does as she says, turning it over gently to turn the thin knob in a circle. Remus leans back awkwardly, tapping the record player with his wand and the volume softens enough that as Sirius turns the snow globe upright again, they can hear the music play.

Soft white powder falls down inside the globe while it plays a delicate tune. What they don't expect to see is an image appear in the middle. It's a photograph – a magical one that moves of course – but unlike a flat surface, you can see the picture as though you are watching it happen from all angles.

Sirius brings it close to his face, mesmerised by the image. It's a picture that Sirius had taken on the camera he had gotten last Christmas from James and it had been heavily snowing at the time. As tradition required, they had a snowball fight, and the picture was taken straight after it. Cressida was smiling brightly towards the lens, eyes so squinted one might mistake them for closed. Sirius is behind her, leaning his weight onto her shoulders as he held the camera in front of them. The pair are covered with snow; sticking to their beanies and scarves and snowflakes dusting their eyebrows and lashes. James is coincidently in the background – faceless so they can only recognise it as him from their own memories – laying on the ground making a snow angel. It's one of her best memories.

"I thought it would be a good picture, cause, you know, it's a snow globe. And it's snowing. I know it's not exactly anything-"

Sirius gives her a pointed look. "I love it." Cressida smiles timidly at the call out. She has a terrible habit of trying to defend her gifts as though she knows they aren't what the person receiving them wants. Sirius leans backwards, placing it on the middle of his nightstand where the image begins to dissolve as the timer runs out. "Alright, now give me some firewhiskey."

"Here mate," James grins, leaning forward to pass it to him. Cressida's mouth opens, watching the exchange. As he sits back down, she can see him barely holding back sound from his lips.

"The audacity," Cressida hisses slowly, which causes his hold to break. James leans into his own lap, head hanging between his forearms while his chest racks with true laughter. "You're so fucking lucky I have more of that hidden away in here."

James straightens back up, but the delight hasn't left his face one bit. "Who's to say I don't already know where that is? Under Peter's bed?"

"You hid alcohol under my bed?" Peter questions, a little worried at his lack of privacy.

Cressida smiles guiltily. "Sorry Pete." The music turns back up, much louder than it was before and Cressida silently thanks James for putting a muffling charm on the door to the dorm. Remus leans back up from his lain-back stretch to reach the record player.

"I have everyone's favourite game," he slurs, waving his wand around wildly. As he wanders towards his own storage of belongings, Cressida can hear James' murmuring under his breath, praying for something to not happen.

"Is it 'Outlast'?" Sirius grins, screwing the lid back onto the firewhiskey.

Remus who is facing away from them, slowly spins on his heels, a wicked smirk on his reddened face. In front of his chest, with one hand on top and the other holding it from below is a pack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. "It sure is," Remus purrs.

James howls in protests while Sirius and Cressida cheer and Peter stays quiet, also not being overly fond of the game. Outlast is exactly what it sounds like. It is a game they created in their second year on the train when Sirius had sourced down a box of the treats with only the horrid flavours. It's not officially sold by the company and is made by people who spend their days separating each individual flavour. A single box costs a fortune, which is a little ironic considering only the most awful of flavours is put in.

The game is simple. Everybody takes one bean at the same time and they have to eat it entirely. No spitting or vomiting. And you keep going until people can't do it anymore. Resilience is key.

Xx

"Layla, you've got me on my knees."

Cressida sings the lyrics with her full heart, balancing on top of a mattress with Remus who is just as into the song as she.

"Layla, I'm begging, darling please,

Layla, darling won't you ease my worried mind."

James exits their lavatory, wiping his mouth with his sleeve again. Being the stubborn bastard he is, James persevered with each round of Bertie Botts. Remus and Cressida had simply washed away the taste with the firewhiskey, and Sirius and Peter settled on rinsing their mouths with water, but James had to brush his teeth.

The bedframe creeks slightly under Remus and Cressida's combined weight, one of his arms resting loosely across her shoulders, the other spread out, gripping the bottle of firewhiskey.

The three purebloods enjoy the music but don't seem to have the same affinity to it as the muggle-born and half-blood. The perks of belonging to two worlds. A touch worried about the condition of Remus' bed, Cressida jumps down, leaving him dancing by himself, and skips over to Sirius who's got his own bottle of alcohol in hand, sipping it and watching the scene.

Cressida takes his hands, placing the bottle aside, pulling and pushing them back and forth in an odd dancing motion. "You've been running and hiding much too long," she sings. Sirius shakes his head but starts moving along on his own accord.

"You know it's just your foolish pride," he finishes.

Pleased with his involvement, Cressida glances at Peter next but he's half asleep, leaning against the foot of his bed so she moves on to James next. He meets her eyes, raising his brows as though warning her not to try with him. But that just makes it all the more fun.

Behind her, Remus jumps off the bed, moving into the centre of the room and continues his wild dancing, using the bottle as a microphone. Sirius joins him, now all but yelling the lyrics.

Cressida takes James' hands as she had Sirius', pulling him further into the middle of the room. There's no resistance, and even before she eggs him on, James' sings along with them.

"Like a fool, I fell in love with you,

Turned my whole world upside down."

Nothing could feel more complete than this moment, twirling around like drunken maniacs, not a single worry about what tomorrow will bring or yesterday's woes.