Chapter 7: Interpretations

It is clear that Sirius seeks whatever distraction he can find – whether that be by messing around on their brooms, or walking to the nearby muggle town by himself. Cressida still isn't entirely sure where she is supposed to stand: next to him, to the side, in front and stopping him from doing anything too stupid? James doesn't seem to know either.

Currently she and James have tagged along on one of these adventures into Grindling, the small, almost folk-like village town that borders onto James' equally small wizarding land. But of course, Sirius wouldn't agree to a normal trip and he currently walks in front of them as a black dog with his tongue hanging out. Some people gave them short glares – probably for not having such a large dog on a lead – and others simply smile at the sight of a sweet-natured canine.

They stroll through the town for an hour or so, browsing through the windows. There are many mid-summer sales signs, painted in thick red on glass and cardboard posters. Cressida nonchalantly scolds herself for not taking a few bills of the muggle money she has stored in her nightstand to treat the boys to something. It's not often that she has the chance to do so.

Eventually Sirius – who has been leading them the entire time – directs them to a children's park which is unsurprisingly busy for such a warm day. There's another dog in the park who their own dog-friend immediately trots towards whilst James and Cressida find a bench to sit down on.

"I'm glad he gets to do this," she says, shading her eyes from the sun. "I doubt people would have the same reaction if a stag or a bear were wandering down the streets. Well, maybe a deer isn't the most unnatural thing but you'd still have quite a shock factor I'd reckon."

"We could always go to the woods just on the other side of the field," he suggests. There are some woods just an acre or two across the large paddock of the Potter's property. Fleamont would warn them as children not to do anything too magical – like ride their brooms past that field line since the muggles often went hunting in those woods for rabbits and deer.

Deer.

"Not unless you want to get shot," she retorts. "Though maybe at night is an idea." Cressida leans forward over her crossed legs, chuckling lightly. "Look at him."

Sirius, like a pig in mud, is chasing around a poodle that looks as though it has come straight from a groomer which is a stark contrast to Sirius' shaggy demeanour. James laughs with her. "That dog looks terrified," he chuckles.

They watch on for a little longer until a woman in a lilac blouse and skirt set is stalking forward. "Bellamy!" she cries. "Get away you raggedy thing!" The poodle tries to return to its owner, but Sirius pays that lady no mind, cutting off the other dog's route.

"Can I ask you something?"

Cressida lops her head to the side. "Whatever you want, James."

"Do you think I should pursue Evans this year?" His tongue presses through his tight lips, wetting them before retreating with a swallow and nervous chuckle. "I know I've asked you something similar before, but I just want to know your opinion now."

"Now?" she repeats with a slight frown she tries hard to cover as squinting from the sun. Pretend. Pretend like she's always done. And she's gotten rather good at it, she'd like to think. "Why are you questioning this again?" she asks without any sort of malice seeping through. "I mean, nothing has changed. Sure, you could give the girl a break every now and then so I don't have to hear her complain every night but…" Cressida exhales slow but strongly, looking back out to the park, bracing her elbows on her bent knees. "You just have to figure out if it hurts more being rejected, or not trying at all." She waits for a response from him but nothing comes. "Not the answer you were looking for?"

She peers back at him with a single brow raised. James blinks, shaking his head. "No, no…" he denies. "It's just… not really your opinion. You're being very logical rather than telling me what you would want me to do."

Her raised brow drops down to meet the other and they furrow to create a thick line between her eyes. "James," she says slowly, "my opinion should have nothing to do with it. It doesn't matter if I think you should or not, only that you think it's right."

James hunches forward, his eyes pointed to the sparse grass at their feet. "So if I told you that I loved her, you would say the same thing?" He's playing with the strings of her heart and he doesn't even know it. Cressida nods.

"Do you?" She can't resist. "A while back you said insinuated that you didn't. Now you're insinuating that you do."

She stares at him as he stares at Sirius. Every second that he doesn't move, she grows sicker. Eventually, he nods slowly. "I think… I am in love." James sits back up, rubbing his hands together nonchalantly as though he hadn't just professed one of the strongest feelings in the world. Cressida turns her head away, playing it off as though just glancing around the park as she takes a quivering breath. "I just-"

"Go get your dog," she orders James. She'd rather not be yelled at by an old lady in a park – however much it would cheer her friend up. "Before he gets a speck of mud on the poor poodle."

James nods silently, brushing his hands off before marching towards their erratic friend. "Snuffles!" he calls, capturing both Sirius' attention and the lilac-dressed lady. "Come, boy!"

"He's going to kill you for that," she snarks.

James sighs, hands resting on his hips as Sirius trots over to them; murder behind his almost black eyes. "I know."

Xx

"Where's James?"

Lounging back on the chaise in the main entertainment area, Sirius shrugs, his hands resting behind his head. "Don't know. He said to grab you and wait here. Oi, you have any idea when Remus and Peter are getting here?"

This time Cressida shrugs, climbing over the back of the lounge to perch on its hard back. "After James gets back from visiting his Aunt Liza I think. Remus has his mother's birthday and Peter's father hates him spending so much time away from home."

Sirius' only response is a look of disdain at the name of James' aunt – the known hoarder. Cressida waits more patiently than Sirius, eyes wandering around the open room. Euphemia and Fleamont are out of course – attending something or other as they quite commonly tend to do. It fills up their days, James' mother had told her, as they had the luxury of not needing a job.

James comes flouncing down the stairs with two boxes in hand. One large one that is as wide as his body, and a smaller white one. The boxes have no patterning or decoration. "Something to cheer you both up."

"Didn't know I looked sad," Cressida mutters. James hands her the larger black one, and the small white one to Sirius.

Sirius leers at her box. "How come hers is bigger?"

"Why are you giving us this?" Cressida questions flatly, ignoring Sirius' pout. It is an odd time to receive a gift.

"I got them in France," James explains.

Cressida sighs, sliding down onto the cushions of the couch and braces her elbows on the lid of the box and rests her forehead against her fist. "James," she sighs. "You took me to France, you shouldn't have gotten me anything."

"I got something for everybody," he retorts quickly. "I wasn't about to leave you out."

"You're the only person I know that whines when given a present," Sirius snorts, already taking the box lid off his own.

Cressida mumbles something about 'not whining' but she cannot deny the growing curiosity. Sirius pulls out a black leather wallet – the same black leather as his watch. She can't deny that James doesn't pay attention to details. On the front is a design that looks like it has been lasered on. The Potter crest.

Sirius is quiet, resting his arms on his knees with the wallet between them. He rubs his thumb over the emblem. "Got that added just the other day. Which is the actual reason I couldn't give them earlier," James explains. "Thought it would be a nice touch to welcome you properly."

Sirius nods – a simple gesture in return for a large one on James' part but they both already know that it means the world to him. "Thank you." Lifting his head, they spy a smirk playing on it. "I can put all the money I stole from my family's vault in it."

"You didn't," Cressida hisses, laughing breathlessly as James snorts.

"I did," Sirius swallows with a prideful glimmer. "Whatever I could carry." She doesn't want to begin imagining the black lash he'll face if he ever confronts his family again, but that only makes her more determined to keep him safe.

Cressida shakes her head with disbelief, but undeniably humoured by his vengeful actions. The time has come to see her own gift, and her thumb runs along the soft rim of the black lid. Lifting it off, she's terrified about what is underneath. Cushioned by a pillow of black tissue paper, is a small handbag. It is a soft pink, with a golden chain for a strap. And a folded piece of paper tucked in between the bag and the box.

"Sorry," James quickly hisses, lurching forward and plucking the folded paper from the box. "That wasn't meant to be in there." The terror transforms into something sickening. She reaches out to take it from the box – or even just simply touch the fabric but her hand falters at a hover. "That's the right one, right?"

Cressida nods.

"Good," James breathes with an easy smile. "Can't exactly return it now."

Cressida nods meekly again, feeling too many things at once to truly comprehend any of them properly. She should thank him – as is polite to do – but the words never leave her throat. "I… I have to go to the bathroom."

The box is left abandoned on the lounge and Cressida all but runs towards the large bathroom just down a corridor. Heat flushes up her neck and down her spine as she quickly unlatches the door and cowers into the room. It only takes a second of seeing herself in the mirror to collapse into tears on the tiled floor.

Pathetic.

That's how she feels. Like a mess on the floor of a bathroom that needs to be mopped away.

At the sound of the door re-opening, Cressida nearly cusses out loud for not having locked it. She ducks her head as James enters. He moves carefully, the door creaking extendedly as he shuts it behind him as though trying not to wake a babe. Cressida clenches her eyes together, willing them to hide everything when they inevitably have to open once more. "I'm…I'm not sure exactly what I did wrong," murmurs James. He lets out a short but sharp puff of air through his nose as though he wanted to attempt to joke or tease, but couldn't quite make it. Cressida can't answer him, pinching her nose between her pointer fingers. "I don't think you're the type to be upset even if I did get the wrong one," he continues. "You'd smile nevertheless." He sits down next to her on the tile with their shoulders touching, resting his knees in the crooks of his elbows. "I've seen a grown adult throw a tantrum when someone brought them the wrong size cloak once. I love that you appreciate everything, even in first year when I brought you books about herbology." Cressida hiccups in a blend of a laugh and sob. "You just smiled, thanked me and never said anything. You still haven't. Remus is the one who told me that you actually hated the class."

"They're in my room," she answers with a scratchy tone. "Sitting on my desk."

"See," James breathes out pointedly. "You still have them even after all this time. So I can rule out the gift itself being the reason you're upset, however, that now leaves me with absolutely no idea."

"I just…" Cressida doesn't want to leave him in the dark. She doesn't want him to be spending useless time worrying over something that he has no control over. "I just really wanted to buy that bag myself. But I took one look at the price tag and knew there was no way in hell I was ever going to be able to spend that much money on myself. Yet you're able to drop that money in a second on a gift. Not even for someone special or your family but a friend.

"I'm not jealous or anything and I don't care if your rich or poor. But I just feel like…" Her eyes press shut again, wiping her tongue around her mouth to rid herself of the dryness. "I can't do the same for you. I try my best on your birthdays and Christmases, but I can't afford to buy you all nice things like this."

James silently listens to her speak, his gaze never once wavering from her face despite her own wandering around the white tiles. Cressida wipes her eye with her shoulder, swallowing every ounce of shame erupting back down. "You know," James whispers, "your gifts are always some of my favourites." His fingers brush along the side of her face, tucking her hair back behind her ear. "I love and appreciate every gift. I think we all know my parents spoil me." Cressida smiles meekly in agreement. "And yeah, that purse definitely wasn't cheap by even my standards, but it wasn't about the price. That's what you liked, so that's what I brought you. It could have between 2 galleons or it could have been two hundred."

"And that's my point," Cressida cries. She grabs his left arm, pulling it between them to point to his brown-leathered watch. "I would have loved to buy you this, but I couldn't and I feel like shit because of it."

James' furrows his brows, staring at the watch. "You know I'm terrible with words," he coughs. "My point is, is that my family, Sirius, we can splurge easily and half the gift is how much was spent on it. People see labels and expensive materials and that's what they adore. When you give me something - when Remus does - I know that you thought about it well and truly. I remember the strife you went through to buy Remus'. And it's not like we don't think about these things, but it's easier. I get to appreciate not only the thing, but the time you spent choosing it, because I know a lot went into it."

Cressida pinches her lips between her teeth, trying to suppress the smile that threatens coyishly. "I love you presents too," she murmurs, wondering if she has come off unappreciative. "Even the herbology books."

James laughs warmly, leaning closer to her until his nose and forehead press against her temple and cheek. "It's alright, you don't have to love those." Cressida closes her eyes, leaning into the touch. "I like being able to spoil you because I know that it's something only I get to do. And Sirius but I think he prefers buying you socks." Cressida bursts into a giggle; he had brought her more pairs for her birthday back in May after seeing how much she liked the ones from Christmas.

"I think Sirius enjoys buying the most mundane muggle things," she notes, eyes pointed to the small gap between their knees, not unaware of his breath tickling her cheek still.

"I have noticed that," James chuckles.

Feeling something that she really doesn't want to be feeling in her stomach, Cressida turns her head to look at him which moves away from his own face at the same time to put the smallest slither of space between them. He leans back slightly, observing her every move as she does his. For a moment they just stare.

"What?" she mouths.

He laughs silently at the familiar play, glancing to the side then to the floor between them as he takes a long draw of air. "Nothing," he mouths back once he eventually looks back up.