Chapter 19: The Potters'

The Potter house couldn't be more welcoming. And Cressida hates that. She hates how doting his parents are, how they welcome James' friends without a moment's hesitation, how James fits into the routine of their lives. She hates that she can't stay here all the time. That this isn't the home she comes to after Hogwarts. But visiting through the holidays is just enough.

And the food-

Cressida picks up her empty plate, stacking the utensils on it and starts to rise out of her chair but a quick hand on her thigh presses her back down. "When will you ever learn?" James muses, taking the plate from her. Cressida slumps with a soft smile, watching as everybody's dishes begin floating through the air by Euphemia's wand.

At home, being muggle-born and having restricted magic, it is only natural to clean the dishes away by hand. Even at Hogwarts, she has to remind herself on a daily basis.

Sirius, who's sitting opposite them at the dining table, leans to the side that Euphemia and Fleamont are on. "She's a bit slow if you haven't noticed."

James snorts, smiling at the table wood and though his parents are amused, they both give Sirius pointed looks. "It's the polite thing to do," Euphemia responds. Cressida blushes slightly, but she's relaxed enough around his family not to take anything too seriously. "Fleamont and I were just saying before you arrived that the lake has frozen over. I'd say in a few days you could skate on it."

James stretches back into his chair. "That'll be fun, won't it Sirius?" he goads. Sirius, who has a natural talent for being tremendously horrid at skating only offers James a foul glare. James looks to her. "You and I can go then. Leave him to mope by the park."

"It'll be a sorry sight," she notes, speaking to James though her words are directed at Sirius. "Maybe he'll stop being an idiot and let me teach him this year rather than being a boy and tell me he's fine."

"It's because I have your old skates," Sirius grumbles. Not living anywhere near a rink or pond, Sirius has been borrowing James' old skates for the past five years. Cressida missed out the first time they went but made sure to buy some the next summer holidays when they were on sale. "They're faulty." Cressida smiles to herself behind her palm for reasons she doesn't yet wish to reveal to the others. Sirius looks back to James' parents. "James hasn't made any progress with Evans," he declares. "If anything, she's more inclined to run away when she sees him."

"That's not the best sign, son," Fleamont chuckles, sipping from his wine. The man is much older than her own father who is still working in the military. Fleamont has the same hair as his son, curling slightly as well. His nose is heavily bridged, with glasses perched on top. "Are you sure it's worth your time?"

"Your father is right," Euphemia adds. Just as old as James' father, Euphemia has a well-structured face. She likens it to McGonagall's, but with darker hair and fuller lips. "What happens once your time at Hogwarts ends? Surely you're not going to chase after her wherever she goes."

James' mood becomes sombre, shoulders slouching and surly expression ruling his features. "I don't know," he answers.

Not being able to handle the turn of his mood, Cressida leans over the top of him to act almost like a blockade. "James is an amazing Quidditch coach," she pronounces. "We have a match against Slytherin right after we go back and there's no way we can lose."

His parents' faces light up. "James," his mother sings, "you didn't tell us you made Captain this year."

James' eyes flicker to her first. He knows what she's doing. He leans forward back onto the table, but his right arm up ducks beneath it. "Sorry, I forgot. It was sort of a rush change during the term." His hand underneath the table squeezes the top of her knee in thanks.

"After our other one got blasted out of the sky," says Sirius. He just cannot keep his mouth shut, Cressida thinks to herself. But James' parents don't look too disturbed at the notion and she reminds herself that they too were once at Hogwarts.

"I'm proud of you, son," Fleamont praises, raising his wine glass in a small toast. He then looks to the guests of the house. "I presume you both are still on the team."

"Absolutely," Sirius winks. "Hogwarts hasn't seen a better team."

"Keep those remarks quiet until we actually have the Quidditch Cup," taunts Cressida, pulling a leg under her other. Sirius contemplates her words but shrugs them off with a broad smirk.

Xx

Sirius and Cressida sit on the floor in front of the fire. Her tongue swirls around her mouth, playing with the mandrake leaf still there. It tastes awful and constantly separating it from food is a tedious job. But nobody has failed to keep it in their mouths and with only a few days left, their awareness has tenfolded.

Her thoughts are intensely trained in on something that she doesn't realise James returning until a steaming mug piled with mini marshmallows is right in front of her face. "Oh, thank you." The mug is warm enough that she quickly wraps her fingers around the curved handle to take the heat off her skin.

"It's a bit too hot," James warns before any of them are stupid enough to try and drink it. She likes to think it's for Sirius' sake that he says so, but double glances at him.

"You burnt your tongue, didn't you?" James nods sulkily. Cressida smiles to the rim of her mug, blowing gently which makes the steam whirl around.

The full moon is in two nights, then Christmas in just a few days after. Her mother had returned her a letter just a few days prior to leaving Hogwarts for the holidays. She had been fretful about Cressida staying but understood her reasoning. Well, her lies now. Being here now, she knows she made the right decision and although she'd never say it to his face, she's thankful for Sirius. And James. Otherwise her tolerance for Marlene would be growing thin if she had to spend the next three weeks with her.

James' house is older styler, very much the late eighteenth-century era. With its two stories and dark wood, it feels like a cottage manor, located on a few acres on the edge of a wizarding town.

Laying back with her weight rested in one hand, Cressida smiles slyly. "So, what am I getting for Christmas?"

Sirius smirks from the side of his mouth from his spot to her right. "Socks," he answers. He faces her, his tongue moving about his mouth with an opened jaw.

Cressida muses over the idea. "I would be pretty happy with that," she admits. "As long as they're fuzzy and or have cool patterns."

Sirius squints as though he is recalling the image of her presents. He smiles teasingly. "There's ones with dinosaurs on them."

"Stegosaurus?" she guesses.

"Triceratops actually," he sings softly. He tests his mug of hot chocolate, wincing at first but then finding it cool enough to drink so Cressida takes to opportunity to do the same. Its beautiful flavour is like heaven in one's mouth. "You're being awfully quiet."

James raises his brows when he realises Sirius is talking to him. A coy smile shows over the top of his own mug. "My tongue hurts," he confesses, sending Sirius and Cressida into a short bubble of sniggers. "Can I ask you something?"

Cressida places her mug to the side, leaning back on both hands. Tipping her head to the side, she says, "Weren't you the one telling me I was weird for asking to ask something?"

James purses his lips together, waving a finger in her general area. "Ok, well, I take that back for now. Do you think-"

"We didn't say you could ask us," Sirius cuts off. Cressida and James stare at him for a moment, and it takes a second for them to comprehend his torment. "I'm not really in the mood for answering anything."

Cressida rolls her eyes, sitting back up. She winds one arm around the length of his head, locking her hand over his mouth. "Well if you're not in the mood to answer, you can keep your mouth shut," she declares. Sirius' glare is the only facial expression she can see, his hair curtaining over his face. Turning back to James, she nods for him to continue.

He laughs softly at their antics but clearly his mind is elsewhere. "Do you think my parents are right? Is it-" he waves his hands in front of his face frantically, "-stupid what I'm doing? Chasing after Lily. I mean, I've just been doing it for so long that it's just natural by now."

Cressida slumps slightly, resting on her ankles crossed underneath her. Her grip on Sirius' mouth doesn't falter, though she feels his tongue beginning to poke through his tightly pressed lips. "I don't think there's a statistical answer to that, James," she answers truthfully. He looks confused at her answer, so she presses on with the jumbled thoughts in her head. "I mean – there's no right or wrong answer. It's not like flipping a coin. You adore Lily, and it's you that needs to decide if it's worth the pursuit."

James nods ever so softly. "And what would you do? If you were me?"

Cressida runs her tongue over her teeth. Sirius squirms under her arm, his tongue drawing circles on her palm. "James…I'm a very different person. I don't like chasing things I can't have. I do everything in my power to forget about it, and clearly that's not you. Sirius, for the love of Merlin, stop licking me."

Finally sick enough of the horrid feeling on her hand, she lets Sirius' face go, wiping her palm on his shoulder. She waits for him to say anything since he's acted so desperately to but he only shrugs at her inquisitive look. "Cress pretty much said what I would."

Barely able to hold the roll of her eyes, she looks back at James. She's expecting a contemplative or pensive expression but instead, a humoured glint and smile softly glows under the firelight. "You two are disgusting," he murmurs a chuckle.

"No," Sirius asserts, "we're adorable."

Cressida raises a brow, peering out the side of her vision but her face pulls into a precautionary wince as his heavy arms lump around her shoulders. His face closes in one hers, dramatically puckered lips creeping towards her cheek. "Ew, no. I don't want your slobber."

Yet it comes, eliciting an audible cringe from her throat, tongue poking out of her mouth in disgusts. Sirius finally leans back after soaking in her reaction, cackling to himself. Pulling the edge of her sleeve over her palm, Cressida hastily wipes away the after-feeling which only erupts a louder laugh. James' nose is scrunched, by the apples of his cheeks are raised, not hiding the grin underneath.