Chapter 40: Lovebirds in an Empty Hall
"James was talking about going to France through the Summer," Cressida says. "Only for a few days."
Marbles clink and clank around them on the stone and against other marbles, people either cheering or groaning. Sirius' hands are stuffed in his pockets, no doubt running his finger over a few coins, determining how much left he has to spend betting on Gobstones.
"Great. That means I'll have to go home for a while," he mutters. His expression quickly changes before Cressida can even register his words. "Don't tell James I said that. He doesn't need to feel bad."
"I think he already does," she replies in the same low tone. "I think you should go to Remus' if he does go."
His eyes harden over, the usually soft dark brown turning into something fiercer. "I'm not a coward," he spits under his breath. "I'm not going to run."
Cressida sighs to herself, folding her arms over her stomach. "That's not what I meant, nor thought about." Unfolding her arms again, she grasps his elbow, turning around partially to grab his full attention. His eyes drag slowly off the Gobstone circle, though she's sure it isn't out of blatant interest of the game. "It's not cowardly to admit that your family is a pile of arseholes who have crooked priorities."
Without even a second missing in beat, Sirius counters, "Why don't you then?" Cressida blinks, her grip on his arm tightening then falling altogether. Sirius drops his shoulders, eyes softening once more. "Sorry," he mutters.
Cressida pins her eyes on a blue marble that slowly rolls towards the boundary line. People eye it intently with every inch that it moves. Eventually the marble rolls over the line and half the small audience erupt in cheers.
Gobstones isn't exactly the most thrilling sport – or really that popular. The only reason you could find older students watching is for illegal gambling since it's the only sport they could get away with doing it. Of course there are some underground groups with Quidditch, but the people who run those rings keep their circles tight.
"I'm going to check on Remus," she says, gliding past all the students. That night is a full moon, and Remus hadn't held back on drinking the previous night which has left him bed-ridden more than ever.
Cressida strides through an empty corridor, humming an empty tune. She has no idea how the night is going to go – how Remus is going to react. From what they know, werewolves aren't dangerous around other animals since it is the scent of humans that drive them, but what if they get scratched in their Animagus form? What is Remus attacks them?
It's not only their safety that she's worried for – but Remus'. He barely stands himself in these times and she cannot even begin to imagine the pain he'd put himself through knowing he hurt one of his friends. But they can't let him continue to live like this, month after month with nobody there.
The first sign of something wrong is a tingling sensation on the back of her neck. Cressida slows her pace, eyes searching the hall in front of her for anything amiss. Nothing. Not even Mrs Norris. Slowly, her eyes press against the side of her vision, fingers dancing higher towards her wand inside her pocket.
Just as she dares to turn, something is brought over her head and a large hand plants on her mouth, muffling the scream that tries to escape. The person behind her tugs backwards and pulls them both towards a side corridor that leads to the lavatories. What gives him away though, is that the cloak pulled over her is see-through.
"James," she hisses yanking his hand away. The Invisibility Cloak covers both of them from the outside world. "What in Merlin's name are you doing?" Cressida plants a hand over her racing heart, willing it to calm down.
James grins brazenly, his hair flattened slightly by the wright of the cloak. "Entertaining myself," he answers.
"Obviously."
To extend his answer, he holds up three bars of chocolates that she recognises from Hogsmeade. "Just got back, still had the cloak, ran into you. I think you can put the story together."
Cressida nods tiredly as the adrenaline runs out of her. "How did this morning go? With Evans?"
James' lips puff out as he exhales slowly, eyes running around the corridor before he responds. "Good, I think," he whispers. "It wasn't really anything spectacular."
Cressida tweaks one side of her mouth up in a small smile. "But it's more than before." It is a constant battle. One side of her loathing these conversations, wanting nothing more than to find a way to sabotage them. But she shuts them out completely; building a brick wall against the part of her mind. How could she do that to her friend? "Are you meeting again?"
"Ah, yeah." He gulps densely, glancing down at his shoes briefly.
Cressida searches his eyes, cocking her head to the side. "That's good, right?"
"Yeah, it is," he breathes quickly. James scratches the back of his head, leaning back against the stone wall. "It's just not…it's very platonic, isn't it? I think I've had more intimate study sessions with Peter."
Cressida doesn't bother to hold her snort, letting herself fall to the side slightly to rest her shoulder against the wall next to his. "If you think it's going to be intimate studying in the school library, then I've got some news for you, Potter," she sighs with a soft smile. "You have to build it up. Merlin, you've been trying to for years and now that you're getting somewhere you've suddenly lost all patience?"
He chest racks in a bitter laugh as he roughly runs his hands down his face. "It was easy before. I knew what to expect and now-" he folds his arms tightly across his chest, letting the material of the cloak rest against their heads, "-I don't know what comes next."
"Does anybody?" she counters lightly with mirth.
Both their eyes dart to the far end of the corridor as two pairs of footsteps slap against the stone. The pair stay silent, waiting for the two students to pass. The new couple is a pair of Ravenclaws – already a well-known couple around the school grounds. Bourke and Gellis. A stiff pair that are rarely even seen to hold hands and Merlin forbid kiss in public. So you can imagine how stunned James and Cressida are when they prance along the hall, hands tightly latching onto the others', fondling each other's face.
Cressida glimpses up at James, confirming that he is indeed seeing the same thing. His ajar jaw and wide eyes does so. She turns to watch them more, but sticks close to the wall, ensuring the cloak covers her feet entirely.
The Ravenclaw pair finally break away right in front of the two Gryffindors and Gellis cups Bourke's face. "I love you, my diddlydums." Bourke only responds by stretching his neck forward and capturing his beloved once more with his mouth.
Cressida cups her own, eyes wide. From beside her, James is doing something similar. "Diddlydums?" he mouths in astonished disgust. Cressida's eyes are tearing with laughter, unable to believe her eyes. "They're never going to believe this," he hisses.
Cressida goes to shush him, but the words catch in her throat as the two Ravenclaw bodies that are practically intertwined stumble towards the wall that she leans against. James quickly pulls her away, but to his own left is a large firelight column. Her mouth drops open as they passionately devour each other. And all she and James can do is stay still, not even daring to try and move away (though they'd probably not notice).
Cressida presses her face into James' shoulder, bottom lip between her teeth as her chest racks in silent cackles. She can feel James' own, his fingers forming a fist upon her lower back, the material of her shirt between them.
Just as they think they can't hold their silence any longer, the Ravenclaws finally pull themselves apart, breathing heavily. Without another word, they stride back down the corridor, two feet apart.
The Gryffindor pair wait as long as they can, knowing that once they start, they'd be heard from the floors above. And they are. Cressida is the first to break, the silence ending abruptly with laughter that has never felt truer. James is soon to follow, his head thrown back against the wall. Cressida begins struggling for air, taking audible heaves to counter her laughter.
James tries to calm himself, raising a finger as though he intends to say something but it drops as he can't stop himself which only sends Cressida deeper into amusement.
They sink to the floor together, James knees drawn up. Cressida wraps her arms around his neck, knowing she'd fall completely to the stone without support as her lungs struggle to keep up, turning her cackles silent and airy. He seems to need her just as much, the fist holding her shirt only tightening and the other hand joining at the base of her neck.
It takes at least ten minutes for them to calm themselves, the Cloak now piled up to the side as they regain the breath. "I've never seen something so beautiful," she cries, forehead pressed against his collarbone.
James chuckles airily, the hand on the back of her head moving upwards to rake the back of her hair. "They seem perfect for each other." Cressida nods, wiping her eyes with the ball of her shoulder. The muscles in her arms jolt slightly, realising that she is mimicking his movements – her fingers beginning to run up the nape of his neck into his hair. Or perhaps he is mimicking her? Her smile morphs into various forms as she pulls her hands away, wiping them on her legs.
She wants him to say something first. To break the long silence they've fallen into now that their laughter has died. But he doesn't. The only thing that reaches her ears is a soft drumming and the sound of her own breathing but she can feel him all around her. The thumb stroking just behind her ear, the length of his leg along her side, his other arm using her own leg as a resting spot.
His mouth twitches open as though to say something, but the words never come. Instead, Cressida opens her own. "What?" She already knows what he will respond, but a part of her hopes for something different.
He laughs softly, shaking his head and dropping his gaze. "Nothing," James says. His gaze lifts again, mirth mixing with hazel. Cressida swallows the frog in her throat, accepting what has become an unsaid habit between them.
"Come on," she sighs, clapping her hands against her thigh. "Remus is probably wondering if we've forgotten about him."
Her body protests pushing away and regaining her independence, but there is no other viable choice she has. James folds the Cloak back up, tucking it under his arm and they head back towards the Gryffindor Tower. Cressida ensures that her eyes stay forward, even walking a step or two in front of him to trick her mind into thinking that she's alone.
Why couldn't it be someone else? Why couldn't it be Elias or one of the twins? The result would almost be the same – fondness from afar, but at least she'd be able to enjoy the feeling and have no need to berate herself. There would be a possibility that she could convince herself that they felt the same way. Flirt and have fun with it.
But she's given no such luxury with James. Everything must be pressed down so far and so deep that her stomach becomes sick whenever she reminds herself. It's tiring. Exhausting. Unforgiving. Merciless.
Cressida can't help but imagine taking a knife and physically pulling the emotion out of her, cutting it at the source just so she doesn't have to feel it anymore. She doesn't want to feel it.
Why does a simple crush have to run her entire self?