Chapter 21: Christmas

There are two parts to Christmas day at the Potter's house. In the earliest hours of the morning, all five of the residents are in the main living room where a heavily decorated tree takes up an entire corner. Despite the Potter's doting and spoilt treatment of their son, his presents are small but meaningful. Sirius and Cressida also each get something, which leaves her feeling guilty since she hadn't gotten anything for them. She had borrowed their owl, sending her mother her gift but she hadn't bothered with her father at all this year.

Christmas morning is one of the coldest yet of the winter, and as she, James and Sirius enjoy the second part of the Christmas day, she huddles under a thick blanket on the couch.

"To Cressida," Sirius reads off an invisible tag. He hands her a hard package that is surprisingly well wrapped.

Reaching underneath the blanket, she pulls out a similar size and shaped present. "To Sirius," she mimics. Not being able to carry the other, Cressida keeps the blanket tightly around her shoulders and waddles towards the tree, pulling out a large present. "James."

"Thank you," he smiles, handing her a present in exchange. This one is as neatly wrapped as Sirius' and she can't help but acknowledge their improved efforts from last year.

Sirius begins unwrapping her present first as he sits in the single chair that's been pulled closer to the lounge Cressida and James reside on. They watch him, simply waiting for the reveal. He notices their intense gaze, slowing his unwrapping. "What?"

"Enjoy," is all Cressida says.

Sirius cautiously unwraps the rest of the paper to reveal a large shoebox. With one last wavering glance at his onlookers, he lifts the lid. As soon as he spies what is inside, the lid slams shut once more. His eyes burn holes into his her as Cressida and James cackle violently. Sirius holds out a hand, making a 'give-me' gesture. "I want my present back. You don't deserve it after this." Shaking her head, Cressida holds the wrapped box close to her chest and under the blanket. With a long sigh, Sirius takes the lid off completely, staring down at the black boots. But his emotions betray him as he shakes his head with a warm laugh. His arms wrap around the box, holding it close to his lap. "You really want me skating with you?"

"I don't like you missing out," she confesses gently.

He looks back down at the skates, still smiling. "I suppose I better make sure they fit."

James sits up, throwing a soft package in Sirius' direction. "Suppose it's good timing to give you this then."

Sirius' concern grows once more but his hands work faster than before. Cressida waits eagerly, wondering if he'd take it well or not. "You've got the fucking kidding me." Sirius licks his lip slowly as he juts his jaw to the side. A lazy hand pulls up one of the knee pads which coincidentally match the black skates. "You both planned this, didn't you?"

James and Cressida shake their heads. "Lucky coincidence, actually."

Sirius tosses the package to the side in disbelief, but a tired, yet charming smile still never leaves. Cressida opens the package Sirius gave her, revealing an entire shoebox filled with different types of socks. "You actually got me socks?" she shrieks with a delighted tune. "I'm going to wear a different pair every day."

The next package she searches for is the one from James. It's small and a little soft but almost certainly some type of book with a leather cover. She tears it open carefully, noting her prediction is right when she spots the dark brown leather and the fresh-white pages. It looks empty, like a diary of some sort.

She smiles up at James, preparing to say thank you, but James is holding up a replica of the diary in front of her. "Two-way diary," he grins gently. "Remus and I spent time researching the two-way mirror and wanted to replicate it on something a little more subtle. You can write in it and the words will show up on the mine."

Cressida's jaw slackens, looking between the two empty books. "That's wicked," she gapes. "Thank you. Now I can send you annoying messages from across the classroom without having to throw paper."

James grins as well, leaning forward and pressing his glasses further up his nose. "Best part is, if anybody but the owners tries to read it, the words just look like scribbles. And it disappears after a while, so it'll never fill up."

"And who are classified as the owners?"

"Only you and me."

"Wow, James," Sirius drawls. "Gossiping about the rest of us I see."

James leans back against the armrest, one knee leaning against the back of the couch, the other leg hanging down off the edge. "What other use would I have gotten it for? There's already something inside of it."

Before Cressida can react, Sirius leaps from his chair, snatching the book out of her hands. "H-oi!" she cries. Sirius turns to keep his back constantly to her, flicking open the front pages. "You have a terrible habit of taking what isn't yours," she huffs, trying to snatch it back by reaching around him.

"Family trait," Sirius dismisses quickly. The page-turning stops and Cressida catches glimpse of blank ink on a page. She glances at James but his confidence in the spells on it are undoubted. "It's gibberish," he growls.

James clicks his tongue, knowing his work has paid off. Cressida finally snatches her gift back, reading the page for herself. There's a simple message;

'Merry Christmas,

James.'

Cressida hums in thought over the message then takes her time looking over Sirius from head to toe. Snapping the book shut, she makes an emphasised expression of agreement to whatever was in the book purely to irk Sirius. His face portrays his agitation and wondering if they've taken it too far, also falsehoods drop away. "We tease," she says.

Her gift to James is a rather elaborately designed chessboard, coated in gold with pieces made of polished redwood with golden trimmings.

As the day passes on, Cressida only finds herself confirming the confidence in her decision to give in and come to the Potters for Christmas. They eat more gingerbread, hot chocolate than their stomachs can handle and for dinner, they have one of the most beautiful feasts imaginable. Though the dining table is half-empty, one does not realise it with all the candles lit, a wreath as the centrepiece and gold and red decorations floating around the air.

Xx

"See." Cressida pushes her feet wide then back in, drifting backwards along the ice. Her hands are covered in fingerless gloves, James' Gryffindor scarf wrapped around her neck since she had left her own at Hogwarts. "Once you listen to your own body, it comes naturally."

Remus, Peter and James skate in the middle of the frozen lake, doing what boys do and barging into one another. Sirius acts nonchalant about the experience, focusing on mimicking her movements. He drifts forward, weaving his weight in and out without once lifting the blades away from the ice.

"Think of it like riding a broom, which-" she shows a taunting scolding expression "-not to boost your ego higher than it already is, you are already a natural at. And it's not like we're ones for fancy tricks."

Cressida glides around to his side, facing the middle of the lake once more. James is squatting, almost zooming from one side to another. "Make way!" he cries as Peter drifts over his path. Being the not-so-swift boy he is, Peter only stares at James like an animal being caught and their pair collide, their bodies skidding across the ice.

"Cress, I appreciate this," Sirius begins, "but please don't dote on me. It's overbearing."

Cressida pulls the skin below her bottom lip between her teeth, a small pang of guilt and dejection swirling her stomach. She wants to argue with him as she does every year, but the same result shows each time. He'd get upset and not wanting to fail, he'd go back to the bench by himself until one of them felt sorry enough to join him. Knowing this year she'd have to take a different approach, Cressida nods, pushing off the ice softly.

Without a goodbye, she skates over to the far side of the lake, joining Remus in his leisurely circling of the outer perimeter. "How was your Christmas?"

Remus nods with a kind smile. "It was nice. My mother burnt the turkey, but I ate so much before it that I don't think I would have fit in more than a slither anyways." His hands are stuffed in his pockets, the melodic slicing of ice adding to the already peaceful escape.

"It was pretty much the same here," Cressida notes. "Definitely put on the Christmas pounds but I think Euphemia's cooking is worth it." She watches Sirius from a distance slowly float across the ice. His movements are short and minimal, but enough to get him somewhere. Forcing her eyes away, she matches Remus' stance and stuffs her hands into her long black coat. "I know it wasn't technically from you, but thank you for the diary. I love it."

"Good," Remus says. "James was worried that sometimes you felt… left out, I suppose is the right word."

"Left out?" she echoes. "Why would he think that?" Her question is followed by a croaky laugh.

Remus shrugs, squinting as the sun reflects brightly off the snow into their eyes as the curve around the lake. "He and Sirius have the mirrors, you almost weren't on the Quidditch team this year. Then you said you were going to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. Even I was beginning to wonder after he told me."

Cressida frowns slightly. No, she'd never felt like that. Should she have? The whole Quidditch thing was a fiasco but nothing to do with them. And she never associated the mirrors as their private property – always having borrowed it from one of them like it was a library book. And wanting to stay at Hogwarts had everything to do with her family, not them.

Realising she hasn't given any response, Cressida shakes her head gently. "Left out isn't a word I'd use." Displaced is a new one that crawls into her mind like a parasite. Sirius' attitude towards her has been shifting negatively. Teases taken too seriously, hints often so subtle that she doesn't realise until a few days later that he didn't want to talk or do something.

But she can't decide if she's just reading too far into something that isn't there. Overthinking isn't a trait she typically associates herself with, however. And Sirius is generally the last person Cressida would be concerned about watching her mouth with. Maybe he just needs a break from something. From her.

"Where's James?"

Remus' voice breaks the spell of her thoughts. Her eyes wipe around, poised much like a meercat as she searches for their lost boy. Just as she begins to search behind her, a loud warning cry sounds out.

A collection of shrill sounds out as a force barges into them from behind. Cressida, Remus, and the assumed James hit the ice in one heap, limbs splaying out in all directions. They slide for a moment until the friction catches up with them. Remus is the first to groan, somehow managing to land sitting up. "Are you blind?!" he growls, brushing off his pants.

Cressida pushes herself up, a hard and withering glare set firm on her face. James has landed on his back and props himself up with his elbows, a cheeky grin contrasting his friends' rigid ones. "Blimey," he breathes out. "I thought there was enough space to get between you."

"Not with that fat head of yours," Cressida mumbles. James' face drops into a straight-faced glare.