Chapter 44: Potions
The coming of Summer is surely making itself known this year. Everything seems to be moving so fast. Exams are right around the corner, they'd won their final Quidditch match of the year, granting them the Quidditch Cup and Cressida is finally getting her grades back up to where they should be.
"Magical Creatures, then Potions," Sirius pants as they march towards the castle. The trip from the bottom fields to the dungeons is a long one at a normal pace – but they don't have time for regular pacing. Cressida is honestly a little shocked that Sirius is even bothering to get to class on time since they're usually late, but this is one of the last practicals that they have for the year and he's most likely keen to find a decent seat next to James. "They should make this detention."
"Don't give them any ideas," responds a breathless Cressida. Her eyes are squinting against the hard sun, a small patch of sweat growing at her neck. Sirius' uniform is all but forgotten; an untucked white shirt, no tie and the wrong socks.
Cressida may as well have not bothered as her own skirt is hitched up to uncover her legs more. Her shirt is just as untucked but the tie still sits neatly in place.
"I don't know what to do, Mary." Cressida spares a fleeting glance up the hill where the next pair up along the stairs talk between themselves, unaware of snooping ears. "He's just… changing."
"What do you expect?" Mary retorts. "He's always been like that, you're just seeing it more."
"I've told him a thousand times!" Lily cries. She sounds…tired. "But he doesn't listen and he's putting himself in danger. I'm sick of his brushing me off."
"Boys never listen," Mary sighs.
The redhead begins her gruntled reply but it is distracted as she searches through her bag, coming out empty-handed. Lily lets out a fierce groan that makes Cressida raise her brows at the sound. She mutters something to Mary before turning around and marching back down towards the class that they just left.
Cressida leans closer to Sirius' ear. "She's right, you know. I could have saved us my numerous detentions, but, no," she exasperates, "let's not go down that corridor. Or, Filch shouldn't be in the trophy room." Her lips purse tightly, awaiting Sirius' response but he only laughs to himself, not giving her the satisfaction of being right. "Reckon she's going on about Snape?"
This time he snorts. "Likely. Can't believe she even tries talking to him these days. He's a slimy git and the entire school knows it."
Cressida hums in agreement and the conversation ends there as they focus instead of keeping their breathing steady up the long steps towards the castle. A few other Gryffindors and Slytherins hover around them as they too head towards the dungeons and despite her and Sirius's steady pace, they end up at the end of the small race.
By the time they reach the classroom, the class is already underway with Slughorn out the front, instructing them on the day's task. Sirius strides straight towards the spare seat next to Remus who tries not to seem too displeased with his new partner. Cressida smiles softly as her eyes meet with James who moves his bag off the now empty seat next to him.
She falters before she can reach it though as a small voice at the back of her head notes the lack of empty seats throughout the room. Out of curiosity alone, Cressida glances around to figure out where Lily, who had to go back to retrieve something left behind, would sit.
The only other spare seat is next to Snivellous himself. Her initial reaction is simple; roll her eyes, scoff, and continue on her way to James. But for some reason that is beyond her own comprehension, Cressida stops in her tracks entirely. Then her heels swivel around and she's marching towards his desk.
Behind a curtain of dark black hair, so unlike Sirius' that it makes her physically miss the latter, Snape glares up at her. The intensity grows in his eyes at every step she takes towards him but her chin is held high. The stares of the classroom are on her back, but none so more than James'.
The chair scrapes against the stone and in one swift movement, Cressida plants herself in it, tossing her bag underneath the table. Snape shifts next to her, his shoulders tensing and she doesn't blame him. If she was him, she'd be wondering what on earth is going on too.
Finally she dares meet James' gaze. His face is set straight, but even from across the room she can spot his signs of unease.
"What are you doing here?"
Cressida turns her head to the side in a smooth motion with a straight neck and back. Snape fails to hold his glare at her, his nostrils flaring and agitated fingers clenching around his quill. "Shut it," Cressida hisses. "I'm not here to talk to you."
She looks back to James but he's already lost focus on her. Or so she thinks. It isn't until James looks back up and lifts the book he has been scribbling in that Cressida realises he's been writing to her. Diving into her bag, she pulls out the two-way diary.
She nearly snorts at the words.
'Are you insane?'
Quickly dipping her own quill in some ink, she replies.
'Possibly. I owe you, remember?'
For the oatmeal incident with Remus that she blamed on him.
She watches James read over her response, though she already knows he won't understand yet. Sirius turns in his seat to talk to James as Slughorn writes something on the blackboard. His head snaps around at the realisation that she isn't there. James nods in her direction and she's greeted with Sirius' hard eyes. He punches Remus' shoulder who reluctantly halts his note-taking. They squabble amongst themselves and even the Slytherins around her begin to whisper and murmur.
James picks up the quill again but before the ink drips onto the page, Lily Evans enters the Potions classroom. "Sorry," she says to Slughorn, flustered and out of breath. Her cheeks are just as red as her hair. Slughorn nods with a small wave of his fingers and turns back to the blackboard. Lily begins searching the room for a place to sit and Cressida watches James realise that he has the only one. James, astounded, moves some of his belongings back over to his side of the table as she sits down with him silently.
Sirius and Remus go back to quietly talking amongst themselves with short glances in her direction every now and then, but Cressida's sole attention is on the other table. James nods and smiles at something Evans says.
As much as it hurts, Cressida smiles at her desk. She knows James is going to appreciate the opportunity, but also that Lily Evans needs a break from the Slytherin next to her. And though she loathes his company herself, Cressida knows that this choice has far more better outcomes than sitting next to James would have. The only thing good from it would have been her own guilty pleasure. And Lily doesn't look so terribly frustrated in Cressida's spot.
Slughorn smiles crookedly back at the class. "Alright, now off you go. Page two-hundred and thirty-three." A chorus of wooden chairs scraping against the floor sounds as everybody begins preparing for their potion. "And be very careful; we wouldn't want any accidents today."
Opening her textbook, they find the recipe for the Erumpent potion. An explosive.
"I chose the right company for the day then," Cressida remarks as sarcastically as she can, clearing her side of the bench. Snape opens his mouth, no doubt with an insult on his tongue but Cressida cuts him off before it can fall. "Listen here." She stands close to him, equal in height and her voice low. "This is going to be a long lesson, and I don't particularly care what you think of me. I'm not sitting here to spend it bickering with you, so keep your mouth shut unless you're telling me what to do with the potion because I don't particularly want this blowing up in my face either."
The skin between his eyes shrivels up, brows bearing like a dog. "I don't listen to mud-bloods. They're filth ruining this school from the inside out." As much as she craves to look vacant to his words, something must give away that she does hear them. Snape takes a step forward, almost eliminating the gap entirely between them, only this time, he stands taller. Metaphorically. "You're on their lists, you know?"
The question comes before she can think twice about her words. "Lists?"
The rise in his lips is anything but kind. "Mulciber. Rosier. Crouch. Avery." He works at setting up their shared cauldron as though they talk about the weather. "They all have lists with the names of people they want to kill."
How morbid, she wants to say, but fear alone freezes her blood and muscles. Students, at the school she attends, shares classes with – have lists of other students they intend to have murdered. She would say Snape is brave for divulging that information to her since she could go straight to McGonagall or Dumbledore himself, but she realises that it wouldn't do much. They've been aware for years now.
"And you're on all of them. So are all of your friends, but you're closer to the top than they are. Mud-bloods take higher priority than blood traitors, you see." Snape can't smirk, but his attempt still boils her blood more than the water currently brewing inside the cauldrons. "I have dibs on Potter, but I bargained away Black to Rosier. You're free-range."
The muscles in her jaw quiver, but now not with fear. How dare they? How dare they bargain lives away like coins for trading. Even if they never go through with it. Just the idea of sitting there writing lists of lives they intend to take one day. Her own friends aren't the most commendable souls and she's never claimed they are, but at least they have standards. Standards of not wishing death upon people that are simply going about their lives.
"I haven't thought about how I want to do it yet-"
Cressida's fingers grasp the rim on the cauldron, jerking it off the three-footed stand. The metal clangs against the bench, its contents spilling through the air before it rolls to the floor.
Snape jumps back as the potion soaks the front of his uniform. "Fucking hell," he cries, capturing the attention of the class if the sound of the cauldron hadn't already. Silence reigns the classroom as all she can do is stare at the Slytherin in front of her.
"Miss Hawthorne-"
"You're lucky that it wasn't finished," she spits, almost wishing it was so she could see the result of its explosive properties. But that'd make her as bad as him. Cressida snatches her bag off the floor and being sure not to meet any of the eyes on her, storms out of the classroom.
The audacity of them. Slytherin bastards. And people dare wonder why she and her friends have a tendency to target their house. It wasn't even them who began this feud between her group and the Slytherins. They would taunt and jeer at her and her friends in the halls between classes. It was only after a few months that James' pride and Sirius' rooted contempt for them truly initiated everything. And for the first few years, Cressida had joined in because what else was she to do? They insulted her, hexed her; so she fought back. But they were schoolyard scuffles. Nothing more.
And as much as it terrifies her to admit it, because she's so far into it that there is no option of retreat, the schoolyard scuffle is morphing into something bigger and bolder.
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