Chapter 38: Troubled

Cressida stares through the window shop glass, hands firmly resting on her hips. Everything inside glazes over, replaced by her own reflection of jeans and a shirt. Nothing appears in her mind – absolutely nothing. There are objects on the other side of the glass, but they just don't 'click' in her head.

Another figure in the reflection joins hers. "You look… lost," he observes.

Cressida groans audibly, head falling onto her back. Rolling it forward again, her droopy eyes run over James' face. "What are you getting him?"

James lifts his shoulders, stuffing his hands in his pocket. "Don't know yet. Something will come to mind." Cressida wants to cuss him off but stops herself, settling for a huff. Remus' birthday is in just a few days, the full moon the very day after. She hasn't bought him a present yet, and her chances to do so are running slim. "He was talking about this book the other day though. Something about numerology."

Cressida slaps her forehead with the base of her palm. "The bookshop!" she cries manically. "Why didn't I think to look there." Her fingers firmly grip James' sleeve, even if he wasn't intending on following her around. Hogsmeade is no busier than usual; both students and village folk wandering around for the daily duties. Sirius and Peter headed off to the Three Broomsticks early, leaving Remus to wander around on his own for a while. She'd felt a little bad at first, but considering she's shopping for him, there isn't much else to do.

If finding something for him is bad enough, James' birthday is in just two weeks after Remus'. And Cressida is stumped.

The bell rings out as Cressida pushes the oak door open to the village's small bookshop. There are lines and lines of books of all sorts. A large overhanging chandelier with wax candles covers the shop in a warm orange-yellow glow. It has a musky scent of parchment and ink; much nicer than their library's.

"Numerology," she murmurs, reading over the different section signs. James trails after her like a child, looking as lost as Snape would be shopping in the shampoo aisle. There is an enormous book displayed at the centre of the numerology section. 'New Theory of Numerology'. "He likes numerology, doesn't he?" Cressida questions James. Her thumb is between her teeth.

James peers over the book. "I know he likes the class a lot," he offers.

She picks the book up, flipping through the first couple of pages. It has a beautiful cover, at least, and there are intricate structural designs that are aesthetically pleasing. If he doesn't read it, it will look nice on a bookshelf at the most.

Cressida decides to get the book, barely holding her wince at the price mark. New books are always the same. James wanders around indifferently, reading random titles and tracing cover patterns as she heads to the counter in the middle of the store. She hands almost her entire pouch of gold over, already knowing she'd have to ask her mother to exchange her muggle coin for some to send over.

Just as the bookshop clerk packages up her gift, the doorbell rings again. Cressida glances over instinctively. A head of flaming hair pokes over one of the shelves, alone.

"Here you go, little lady."

Cressida tears her eyes away, taking the brown paper package. "Thanks." She turns back around, searching for James who is bent over in the children's section, reading through a Tale of Beetle and the Bard. He hasn't noticed Lily's presence yet. And she desires it to stay that way. Instead of calling out to him, she marches over, plucking the book from his hands. "Let's go have some lunch," she suggests.

"Sounds good to me," replies James, already standing once more before she can. Cressida walks behind him this time as they head to the glass and oak door, her eyes struggling to stay straight. The bell rings again as the exit, bathing once more in the warm spring sun.

Though James keeps walking towards the Three Broomsticks, Cressida's feet are planted. She battles internally against her own selfish desires, and the want to fulfil her friend's. "James," she calls, voice cracking. He pauses, half turning with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants. His face is relaxed and easy-going, just the way it should be. "I just saw Lily go in there. She was alone." His eyes dart back to the bookshop, the easygoingness morphing into enticement. "I don't mind walking over myself."

He marches back, his fingers stretching around in nervousness. "What should I say?"

The desperation in his voice hurts. It hurts because that is what goes through her own head, yet she doesn't even have the luxury of a failure without consequence so she cannot try at all. "Something casual," she sighs. "She's muggle-born – ask her if she's read Tales of Beetle and the Bard."

James nods feverishly, wringing his hands together. He mumbles an affirmation to himself and she watches the confidence seeping back into him. Without a second glance back at her, he hurries back into the bookstore that she had to drag him into.

Behind the dim light and tinted windows, Cressida cannot see far in and his dark clothing fades with the dark wood of the shelves and before long James' is lost to her eyes.

Soft and longing eyes turn sharp, her front teeth pinching the tip of her tongue as Cressida marches towards the Three Broomsticks with only her thoughts for company. How can she be upset at him? Upset for not reciprocating feelings she hasn't even announced? Or maybe he knows and for her own sake doesn't bring it up. If Sirius could tell then she probably doomed herself on the same night she first felt anything.

Before she even realises that she's left the centre of the town, the entrance to the Three Broomsticks is only a few feet away. Loud chatter emits from its open doors, welcoming the spring weather in. Cressida also doesn't realise how flat her face has been until she spots not only Sirius and Peter, but Remus as well, all huddled in a booth.

"Afternoon boys," she sings, sliding in next to Remus who had the entire side to himself. "Whose food can I steal?"

Peter shoves his plate of chips forward, sinking back against the chair with a drooping face. "I ate too many," he grumbles.

"Because you ate all mine," Sirius snarls. Cressida raises her brows, offering the plate towards him. He takes a handful, so she settles the plate between them, waving down a server for a drink. "Where's our dear friend?"

Peter snorts into his knuckles. "Did you mean to make that pun?"

Cressida frowns with parted lips, much like Sirius until the realisation dawns upon them both. Sniggering, Cressida quickly evaluates who she is sitting next to and kicks the other two under the table.

Remus looks between them all quizzically. "Am I missing something?"

"No, Peter just made a bad joke the other day," Cressida says, cringing at her own excuse, which doesn't even make sense to her. The server starts to walk over so she takes advantage, asking, "Does anyone want a butterbeer?" They all shake their heads so she orders one for herself. Feeling the slight twang of hunger in her gut, she goes to order a dish of something, but the lightness in her purse makes her think twice. "Just the drink, please," she finishes. The server nods, meandering away. "And to answer the question, he's with Lily. Possibly. That's where I left him but there's no telling what happened after that."

Sirius purses his lips. "And you didn't hear any screeching or cursing?" he wonders mirthfully. Cressida huffs, shaking her head with a meek smile. "Might be his lucky day," he adds in a mumble over the top of his drink.

Her drink arrives which she takes her time drinking, munching on the chips in hopes to drag out their longevity. But with every passing second, Cressida becomes more and more aware that James still hasn't caught up with them. She does everything; from running through the conversation in her head to make sure she said where she was headed, to arguing with herself to go and find him. But she stays firmly planted.

After nearly half an hour, James finally strolls through the main doors, grinning like a madman as he slides in next to Sirius.

"You look like you've had a gallon of firewhiskey," Remus observes. James' face is indeed tinted red and along with the buffoon smile, he looks slightly over-spellbound.

"How'd it go then?" Sirius pesters.

James smirks, leaning back against the chair idly. "Don't think it could've gone better." That draws their attention even closer. "She talked to me, called me Potter. And-" he points to Cressida, who swallows rigidly, "-you're a genius. I asked her for help with Charms. She said yes." The table let out a round of hushed cheers, though ranging variously in enthusiasm.

Cressida pinches the skin on the side of her knee, forcing a smile. She'd been helping him with the class. It is some of the only times she gets to spend with him alone. This moment isn't even bittersweet. It's just bitter.

"-Now you don't have to waste time with me," he continues.

Cressida rolls her neck in a nod. It wasn't a waste of time. Not to her. And if he thinks that she believes it is a waste of time, then how does he feel about helping her in Transfiguration?

The server comes back over for James' order. "A chicken and tomato burger please." He glances over the table, asking if anybody else wants a drink as she did. Then his eyes land on her. No plate except for the one she'd been sharing with Sirius. "You having lunch?"

Cressida picks up her glass with a tight smile. "I had some chips as well."

He stares at her for a little while longer and feeling like she's being watched by an examination supervisor, her own eyes fleet around. "Make that two," James says to the server who is growing impatient. The older man nods stiffly, about to talk off once more.

"Wait," she calls out to the man. He half turns, a brow raised. "Sorry, just the one." He turns back around without even a nod. Cressida looks back over her friends who are waiting for some sort of explanation. James opens his mouth, leaning forward with a posture that she knows means he's ready to argue something. "I just realised I have to go," she spits out before he can say anything. Cressida slides from her seat, flushing and stuttering. "You and Lily with charms just reminded me that Elias offered to help me with Transfiguration. He got an OWL in it."

"Transfiguration?" James intones. "But I'm already helping you."

"I know," she breathes as easily as she can manage, collecting both her bag and the paper parcel that Remus' present is wrapped in. "But you've been busy with Quidditch, and Lily, and other stuff that I thought it'd be better to ask him."

James frowns, turning his body over the side of the seat. "You didn't even ask me if I was too busy."

Cressida shrugs, already setting her eyes on the door. "You would have lied," she counters. "I've got to go, I'm already late." With hot red cheeks and a heart hammering against her chest, she strides out of the Three Broomsticks and back towards the carriages that will take her back to Hogwarts.

Xx

"Elias," Cressida sighs, shoulders slouching. Elias is leaning against a column, a seventh year Ravenclaw wandering off as they just finished whatever conversation they were in.

His wide lips pull into a warm smile that feels like a hug in itself. "Cressida," he greets in a mirthful drawl. "What can I do for you today?"

Smacking her lips together with a bashful smile, she holds a book close to her chest. "I was wondering if you're offer to help with Transfiguration is still open? James had something come up and-"

"Of course," he cuts her off. "We can do Monday afternoons if you want?"

Cressida nods, dropping the book from her chest. "That'd be perfect." And it will be – replacing the same day that she'd normally be with James anyway. Her smile drops slightly. "Do… do you want to come to the pitch with me for some training? I, uh, sort of lied to my friends that I was doing something else and I don't want them to come back from Hogsmeade early and see me doing nothing."

"Sure," he grins. "Can't say I'm any good at Quidditch but I've played at the Weasley's house enough."

Cressida exhales sharply, nodding her head. "No, as long as you can throw a Quaffle," she laughs. No questioning, no hesitation, no wondering what she's lied about. No judgement. And that is exactly what she needs right now – someone to just be there. Sirius would badger her for more answers about the day, even Remus and Peter would question her sudden departure.

"I think I can manage."