Chapter 20: Victory

Gryffindor has just won the first Quidditch game of the year. And Cressida had caught the snitch.

The celebration roars around her in the Common Room, the Captain at the centre, still in his Quidditch jersey like the rest of the team. It had felt like third year again; a ball of nerves having no idea what she was doing, yet somehow she was able to steal the snitch before the Hufflepuff Seeker. The stands had been filled with cheers, and even the Ravenclaw commentator took to Gryffindor's side. It's the best Cressida has felt in weeks.

Although content to watch the celebration from the side, James emerges from the crowd. "There's my champion."

Remus, her companion that has stayed surprisingly sober tips his head with a smirk. "What? Finally sharing the victory with someone other than yourself?"

James smirks right back. "If you do recall, Moony, it was my idea to make her Seeker. Therefore, my amazing abilities as Captain won us that game."

"Or because Sirius knocked out their best Chaser," Cressida refutes. James rolls his eyes, having no proper argument at his disposal. "But I think you can bear some of the responsibility our of victory. Twenty per cent."

"Twenty per cent?!" James cries in outrage. He shakes his head with tightly pressed lips. "Absolutely not. Seventy-five."

Her jaw drops open. "I caught the snitch which got us one-hundred and fifty points!"

"And I scored us ten goals!"

Cressida points a finger at her chest. "You just called me your champion!"

"A decorative title," he draws out, laughing wildly at her offended expression. "Fine. Thirty per cent."

With a haughty huff, she nods. "You can have thirty per cent."

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no." James throws an arm around her shoulder, his other hand pointing towards her chest. "You can have thirty per cent. I can have seventy."

Cressida shakes her head in disbelief, running her tongue over her lips. "And what about the rest of the team, huh?"

James sighs, cocking his head to the side in thought. "Then we'd have to split it evenly," he muses, "plus a little more for me because; Captain." Cressida does nod in agreement. "Which would mean you all only get ten per cent and I get forty."

Her lips twist around. "I don't like the sound of that actually. What if we go forty-forty each, and ten for Sirius? He did give us an edge. The other five can have two per cent each."

Cressida makes a quick note that Remus had left her side at one point or another. "I think that sounds the fairest," James concedes. His arm slides down off her neck to the scope of her back, his hand skimming underneath her upper arm to curve along the bottom of her rib cage. "Did you want a drink?"

"I had one earlier, but Remus took it out of my hands," she recalls. "Then I asked Sirius to get me another and he never returned."

"Oh, he's talking to-" James cuts himself off mid-sentence.

"Who?" Cressida pushes.

His eyes avoid hers. "Uh, Marlene I think."

"Oh." Not surprising. Those two always find something to bicker about, especially at parties where they've had something to drink.

James frowns down at her. "You're not… I don't know, concerned?"

Cressida can't help but laugh aloud. "About what? Talking to Marlene? At least he's not trying to fly on his broom in the tower this time." She knows what he's trying to imply but she can't bring herself to feign jealously.

James frowns even more, watching Sirius and Marlene talk – or more so banter – near the stairs. The drink that was likely supposed to be hers is nearly spilling as his arms are thrown about. "Don't you want him to be hanging out with you?"

"I'm hardly that clingy," she snorts. "Besides, it's finally someone else's turn to babysit him." Her grin widens as the table with drinks stacked upon it comes into view. "I'm getting that drink."

Leaving it up to him whether he wants to follow or not, Cressida strides towards the table, picking the cup filled with pumpkin juice. At the table already is Heffler, one of the two other Chasers other than James. He's the comedic one of the team and even James' tolerance for his antic often grows thin. "I saw that steal you made from Gordon," Cressida says. "Impressive."

The golden-haired Chaser grins, toasting his own pumpkin juice towards her. "You did a good job today out there, but I'm sure our humble Captain has already told you that."

"Yes," she chuckles. "It's a little strange not having to completely focus on the quaffle anymore but it wasn't so bad."

"It's a little strange knowing you're not at the hoops," he says in agreeance. His head tips from side to side. "The newbie is… alright but he's got a while to go before he's ready for a match against the Snakes.

Cressida hums. "At least that's not till April." Her previous companion finally decides to show up, sliding up next to her and leans his hip against the table. "You think you can get Hackley up to standard by April?" she asks him.

"What?" he laughs. "Doubting that I can make him one of the best Keepers Hogwarts has ever seen?"

Rolling her eyes, she responds over the brim of her drink, "Not doubting, just wondering what your plan is."

James perches himself on the empty part of the table on her right. "My plan," he begins slowly, "is a lot of training."

Heffler snorts, smirking at Cressida. "We do that anyway." Cressida can't help but chuckle in agreeance, giving a pointed look to James. She is tugged to the side by a pair of hands on either side of her waist that pull her flush to his front. "Maybe instead of private sessions with Cress, you can give them to Hackley," Heffler adds in a slow and pointed tone.

Cressida runs her tongue along the back of her teeth, a brow raises but her eyes pointed to the floor, awaiting James' response. Her arms rest along the tops of his knees on either side of her whilst his hands move from her waist to link together at the front of her stomach.

"As I said to you before training," James starts stiffly, "I'd rather have an amazing Seeker than an amazing Keeper. Keepers won't win us an entire game, they just give us a good edge."

Heffler exhales slowly through his nose, glancing off to the side to keep the casual atmosphere that James was beginning to disturb. "Well my brother was a Seeker back from '65 to '69 for Ravenclaw and he won almost every game. Showed me a few things so if Cress needs more training, I'd be more than happy to help so you can focus on Hackley."

"If I think Hackley needs it, I'll give him some. But I'm the Captain and I'll continue training Cress as well. Shockingly, I have time-management." Cressida glances off to the side, sipping from her drink as James' voice becomes firmer and authoritative. She's not exactly part of the conversation and standing quite literally between them is a little awkward. "Besides, I think you're underestimating them both. And me."

Heffler nods slowly with no sign of further argument. Holding up his unoccupied hand he says, "You're the Captain for a reason," then wanders back off into the crowd with a mirthful smirk still donning his cheeks.

Breaking her awkward silence, Cressida turns in his loose hold to face James. "You're so defensive," she muses, running her tongue over her bottom lip and an amused huff. "He wasn't even insulting you."

"He was insinuating that I wasn't capable of training Hackley and you as well as normal training," James contests, not matching her light expression.

Rolling her eyes, Cressida rests her hip against the small gap of the table between his legs. "He was offering to help out so you could have a break." James stares off somewhere to the side, the thumbs of his still-linked hands playing with the material of her red and gold Quidditch jumper. "Which you could probably use," she adds more firmly. Giving up the fight in the same way Heffler had, she can only sigh and gaze over the party.

"Have you noticed Snape has been eyeing us off more than usual?"

"More than usual?" Cressida repeats. "Doesn't he always have eyes on us?"

"That's what I told Sirius but he reckons Snape's been tailing us. Maybe something about getting us in trouble."

"Well good thing he's not the brightest laddie around then," she snorts, turning her gaze over her other shoulder. A flash of red hair almost blends in with the red house colours. "Why don't you go see if you can woo Lily with your dance moves? That's sure to put you in a better mood."

James' eyes dart fleetingly in the same direction, but he quickly shakes his head and lets it drop. "Nah." He snatches the nearest drink, drowning over half of it in one go. "The only girl I want to dance with tonight has feelings for someone else and I don't think I could hold back from kissing her if I did." He presses the rim of his glass against her chest. "And I don't think that'd end up very well."

Cressida tips her head closer to her shoulder. "You sure? You could use the moves that Remus showed you, just, minus that part where it's on top of a table." James doesn't respond to her taunt which lets her know that he's really not in the mood for smiles and laughter. "Tell me what you want."

That demands his attention.

His shoulders rise and fall with a long breath, his head lifting to display a genuine but meek smile. "Nothing. I'm just…" He cuts off his own words, shaking his head again. It almost drops but he lifts it with more confidence. "Just sick of pretending," he finishes off. Even with her naked eye, Cressida can spot the signs of relief on his skin at the confession. Though she isn't entirely sure she understands it yet.

"What are you pretending?"

"Depends on who's asking," he answers in a voice much flatter than anything usual.

The crowd around them, dancing and drinking to loud music becomes overbearing and claustrophobic to even her mind, so she can barely begin to imagine what James is feeling at this very moment. "Do you want to go upstairs for a while?" she asks, leaning close to his ear. As gently as she can, she brushes his lopsided fringe away from his glasses.

His head turns away from her, his chest rising in a slow and long breath. Then he looks back to her and nods silently. Cressida steps back, allowing him to slide from the table and they quietly slip through the crowd of Gryffindors towards the stairs to the boy's dormitory. They barely make it up two stairs before a loud whistle in a familiar tune sounds out over the sea of already loud voices.

Both their heads snap in the direction it came from. Heffler. Of course. He's grinning at them, laughing along with the people beside him. Cressida's reaction is to simply shake her head, already well aware of Heffler's antics.

James, however, eyes hard and jaw set, is already marching back down the few steps. The people between the two boys either move out of the way or are moved. "James?" Cressida calls out, trying to catch up to him.

James punches him straight in the jaw.

The immediate group of people surrounding gasp, including Cressida, and jump away as the blonde-headed boy stumbles backwards. Her fingers clamp around James' arm, yanking him towards her and away from their Chaser who's cupping his mouth that has a stream of blood flowing from it. The boy on the floor is embarrassed, his cheeks tinting red and his eyes pointed downwards. The boy next to her is fuming with the same type of anger that she often finds on Sirius.

James' stumbles at her hard tug but allows Cressida to draw him away and back to the stairs. She's never seen him punch someone before. It's always magic. Spells and jinxes. But that was personal.

Her shoulder rams into their bedroom door, pulling James inside before she shuts it. "What in Merlin's name was that?!" she can't help but shriek. Her hands run down the length of her face, knowing that the entirety of their house just watched that, and it'd be the talk of the castle before long. "That was Heffler, James. You know he's an idiot. And now you're a bigger one."

James pushes his jaw out, chin low as he stalks towards his bed. Cressida watches him, hands resting on her hips, waiting for his answer. He turns around, leaning against the bedpost and lets his head tip back to rest against it. His face begins to crumble, but he hides it away under his hands before she can see it entirely.

Cursing herself, the gap between them closes. Her arms scoop up under his, pressing her forehead against the top of his shoulder. "You're not an idiot," she corrects softly. "I don't know what you are, but it's not an idiot."

"An arrogant prick," his dry voice mutters.

Cressida laughs airily, nodding. "That's two things, but there are many, many more." She lifts her forehead, placing her chin on the edge of his shoulder. "We've just won the first game of the year and you're crying. I know it seems like a far stretch, but I have a feeling something's bothering you." A terrible attempt to joke. "You said you were sick of pretending. Do you want to talk about that?"

He sniffs, one arm laying around her neck, the other wiping away at his cheek. His glasses lift over his fingers making them sit crooked on his nose. "I'm not sure I do."

"Is there something you want to talk about?" she re-questions. "I can scout down Sirius for you." Cressida wishes he'd just talk to her, or at least somebody rather than be a typical boy and bottle it up. She's surprised that Sirius hadn't already come up.

"I just want some sleep," he whispers. "The game was long."

She doesn't want to argue. The game was long and James' looks exhausted. He slips from her arms, taking a few short steps towards the other end of his bed. The red knitted jumper is pulled over his head in one motion, leaving only the undershirt of his jersey and he kicks off his shoes. Cressida leans against the post with folded arms, wondering what her next move is.

Once James lies down, half his legs under the covers but the rest still pushed back, he glances at her. "You going to watch me sleep? Because that's a little creepy."

Cressida shows her amusement through a wide, but closed-lipped smile. "I don't want to leave you alone," is her honest response.

"What do you think I'm going to do besides sleep?"

"I don't know," she answers in a single breath. "And that's why I'm worried." Swallowing down the unwanted plague of thoughts, her eyes filter around the room, but there's nobody here with them. Ignoring every cry of her nerves, her shoulders push off from the bedpost, launching her into a forward motion towards the upper end of his bed. Before she knows it, the mattress is sinking under hers and James' combined weight.

Cressida rests on her side, tucking an arm under the pillow and examines his face. His eyes are lingering down the far end of her body which is digging in under the blanket and trails upwards. When he reaches her face, the corners of his lips tweak upwards, but not quite in the form of a proper smile. "You look comfortable."

"I am," she whispers, looking at his neck since she can't look him in the eyes any longer. "Though I wish I had more room to stretch." Her leg moves out slightly, already knocking into his to prove her point.

"Well I'm sorry I'm in your way, in my own bed," he drawls mockingly. They both let out a short, airy laugh through their noses. "Would you like to rearrange?"

Cressida immediately snorts, covering her mouth in embarrassment of the horrid sound. "I'm sorry," she laughs, "that just sounded very promiscuous." Even her own cheeks blush at the suggestion so she pushes her face into the pillow to hide it and avoid watching his reaction.

Fortunately she can hear his laugh as well. His arm that had been stretch behind his head flops downwards, his hand loosely scratching over the back of her head like a claw. Finally settling herself, Cressida removes her face from the softened pillow and looks him in the eye. The hand on her head changes motion, now lifting and moving different strands of hair up and away from her face. "This reminds me of the end of last year," he murmurs so softly she has to repeat them in her head twice to understand them. "When I was in the hospital wing and you snuck in after hours. And then you were mad when you fell asleep."

"You put me to sleep," she attempts to hiss but the spite in her words doesn't show. "Doing something very similar to what you're doing now."

"Do you want to fall asleep?"

Her eyes slowly peel open. His movements don't stop. Cressida raises her hand from the mattress with the intention to pull his arm away from her because she knows all to well how it is making her feel inside. Yet it has a mind of its own and travels towards his chest, her fingers covering the middle letters of their House name. She can feel his breathing. He takes a long, deep breath, almost breathing into her hand and makes a slight adjustment that reduces the gap between them even more.

Her eyes trail on her own hand, watching as it moves like a foreign thing not connected to her own body. She hasn't answered his question but by now she's forgotten what it was. Her eyes are forced away from his chest by a finger lifting her chin upwards and as soon as it is high enough, the fingers sparse out over her jaw and cheek. And James Potter is kissing her.

Cressida can't think. She can't move. She can't function.

Then it all disappears, including the warmth of the second body.

His face is pale, and his eyes wide and glazed over. "I-I…I am so sorry," he breathes, now standing at the side of his bed. His hand covers his mouth, pinching his nose but he quickly lifts it to run through his hair. "That was… I'm a mess today, I'm really sorry. I'm going to take a shower."

He dashes out of the room before Cressida can even think to formulate a response. He leaves her there; stunned, embarrassed, upset. Her nose begins to sting and a gross sickly sensation swarms over her body.

Shoving her shoes back on as the sound of water filling the pipes comes from the bathroom, Cressida bolts towards the dorm door and scrambles back to her own, sinking onto her mattress and covering her head with the quilt.