Chapter 41: Nowhere? Somewhere.

Sitting next to Regulus on the cold floor of Hogwarts' kitchen is not as awkward as one might imagine it to be. Initially, he was cold and reserved, standing over her. At one point he disappeared, which Cressida failed to notice until he returned and place a small plate with a slice of chocolate mud cake.

She had looked up at him with wide, curious eyes.

"What?" he muttered with a small shrug of his shoulders. "Do you think I'm soulless or something?"

Cressida sniffed hard, wiping her nose. "With skin that pale and eyes that dark, sometimes I wonder."

Regulus had laughed but it only lasted one breath of air and then he sat down next to her, leading to their current position. They don't talk about much, other than sarcastic comments or gossip that involves neither of the social circles. Regulus doesn't ask her why she bawled her eyes out for twenty minutes and Cressida doesn't want to tell him. He probably doesn't care.

It isn't until well past curfew that Cressida breaks their light banter. "I want to ask you something," she begins carefully. "Not to argue, but it's just something I don't understand. Why… do you like Voldemort? Why are so many people following him? What is he offering you?"

Regulus' eyes narrow, but not in warning, rather in thought. "Power," he says after a pregnant break. There's a tiny draw upwards on one side of his mouth. "He's so powerful, even beyond what I can tell you. And he's going to win this war. Serving under him, I could be powerful too. Study dark magic freely, help rid the world of Mud-bloo-". Cressida's face falls into a disappointed expression that he quickly reads and redirects his words. She would never assume he's changing, but she thought he was beyond using the slur. "I just mean, keeping Muggle-borns under control. And Muggles"

"What's that even supposed to mean?" she breathes exasperatedly.

"I don't want to kill your type." Cressida barely withholds a roll of her eyes. Though she supposes it is better than a slur. "Have you heard of the Scared twenty-eight?"

Cressida nods. "Sirius has mentioned it a few times. Not with pleasant words, I'll add."

"These are the most powerful families in the wizarding world. And the richest. Ones not tainted by Muggles. These families – my family – are pure-blooded. If we let Muggles and Muggle-born people into our bloodline, then we are tainting what has been pure for centuries. Not to mention it threatens our status and authority. We deserve to control the wizarding world, because we are the longest surviving chains that remain uncorrupted."

His words are trying to persuade her, despite both of them very aware that there is no way that Cressida would ever be persuaded to support something that seeks the end of her existence. Maybe he's not trying to persuade her to join him, but understand him. And a part of her does. Not agree with him – but understand.

"Regulus. Why do I have to suffer because of the way I was born? Why do I have to face slurs, threats to my life, constant danger just because I was gifted my magic differently than you were gifted yours? We were both gifted by magic, only yours came from your parents and their parents before that, but mine came directly from the universe itself. Would you not say that is just as pure? That my blood isn't dirty, but touched by magic?"

Regulus doesn't meet her eyes, staring somewhere around her stomach instead. "You still have the blood of Muggles within you."

"And who is to say that you don't? That all our blood is exactly the same. That you have Muggle blood that has been touched by magic just the same as mine, only your line begins many centuries ago, and the wizarding line of the Hawthornes begins now? The only difference is, yours had a head start."

This time, his eyes turn to black coal against her own brown ones. "I don't have Muggle blood," he hisses. He seethes at the idea, loathing any notion of being anything but 'pure'.

Cressida might not be a Ravenclaw, but she's smart enough to back down. She can't blame Regulus really; not for the thoughts that his family raised him with. Sirius is a rebel at heart and saw these things differently from a young age. Regulus is just more impressionable. "As I said, I don't want to argue with you. But maybe think about what I said. Run it over in your head a few times."

Xx

Their final exams are just on the horizon, but unlike last year, Cressida can barely pay them any mind. It is a chilly morning, and though the sun should have risen hours ago, the arched window remains a thick blueish-grey with occasional strokes of lightning to match the constant patter of a rainstorm against the glass.

She watched the window unwaveringly until some stupid third year sat in front of it with a pile of books. Instead of finding something else to look at, she chose to close her eyes instead.

The Common Room fire is already full ablaze despite being a spring Sunday morning, and the Marauders had beaten all the other students to the lounges and chairs after breakfast, leaving the rest to find other spots around the Tower or leave it completely. James and Remus lounge on the large red couch, Peter sitting in the far cushioned chair with a pillow tucked to his chest. Cressida took residence on an already occupied chair, using Sirius as her source of warmth. He didn't argue, as she thought he might've, instead, letting her curl up on his lap and rest her head on his shoulder. She couldn't think of anywhere she'd rather be at that moment.

Sirius had tried to pry out of her what happened between her and James but she had refused to speak, wanting nothing more than to forget. And it is clear that James, for some reason hadn't said a word to him either, as Sirius gave her a frustrated groan.

"Can't believe it's going to be the holidays again," Remus notes quietly. "Feels like just a few weeks ago we were all at James'."

"And we're all seventeen now this year. No trace." Cressida's birthday hadn't passed yet, but she doesn't have many plans for it. "What sort of mischief could we get up to?" James questions with a half-hearted smirk.

Remus begins denying the idea of any sort of mischief with James.

"I don't want to go home," Cressida whispers. "I don't want school to end this year."

Sirius places his cheek on the top of her head. "You won't stay there long," he promises. "I'll come get you and we'll go to James'."

"I don't want to go to James' house either."

There's no immediate response. She's sure that nobody but Sirius hear her speak, but there's a growing quietness with the others' conversation. "Where do you want to go then?" He questions her with uncertainty, as though he's afraid of her answer. She couldn't go to Remus' or Peter's; not when their financial strain is already enough.

Cressida answers with the only option she has. "Nowhere." If only she could disappear and go nowhere. Nowhere is better than somewhere. "Is that possible?"

"I don't know where nowhere is, Cress," he whispers. "But even if I did, I wouldn't take you there. You belong somewhere." Her lips twitch up and his rare expression of fondness. Her mind conjures the words, taking a tight grasp of them and puts them deep into her memory. She belongs somewhere.

Cressida opens her eyes once more, watching his fingers drum on the top of her knee unrhythmically. Willing to occupy her empty mind, her arm slides off her lap, placing her own hand on his knee and mimics his exact pattern. It takes him a moment to pick up on it, but then there's a sudden change in his movements. She keeps up, feeling like she's trying to mimic a skilled piano player with no experience herself.

"What do you want to do today, Cress?"

The question comes from James. Soft in tone. Cressida briefly glances in his direction. They hadn't spoken much, but at the same time, she really doesn't want to lose their friendship. They've been through too much to just forget that.

Though she wants to answer him and return the friendly gesture, it made her lose focus on mimicking Sirius and that agitated her more than she expected. So Cressida shrugs off his question, pulling her hand back to her chest.

"I think that means she wants to sleep," Sirius responds in her place with a soft laugh. He stops his tapping as well and tilts his mouth down close to her ear. "Do I need to be worried?"

"About what?" she whispers back.

"About you."

Cressida lifts her head, dreary and tired eyes meeting his starkly black ones. "I think I need to be more worried about you. Since when do you let me cuddle for so long?"

"Since I've been worried."

There's no need for him to worry. Cressida is just tired from the pileup of schoolwork, the many extra hours of quidditch training for their last match against Slytherin and the many more hours they've spent staying up well into the night. "There's no reason to be."

The idea that Sirius thinks there's something wrong with her is upsetting in itself. There isn't. She's just tired.

"Alright, come on." He doesn't even give her a chance to process, already moving out from underneath her. Cressida slides off, quickly balancing on her feet. She's pulled – albeit gently – all the way up to his dormitory, given no ear from Sirius at her questions.

He shoulders the door open, holding bot her wrists and then sits her on the side of his bed. Cressida sits down, mouth slightly ajar, watching him kneel down in front of her.

He stares at her again, making an uncomfortable wave ripple through her body. "Cressida, I know you very well." Her brows pinched, eyes turning towards her own lap so she didn't have to look back at him. "And I know that whatever is happening with James is upsetting you, but I don't think that's all. You're not the type of person let yourself be like this if you can control it. And I've watched you for over a year control yourself around him."

"I told you," she murmurs, pulling at the skin around her fingernail, "there's nothing to worry about. I'm just tired. Really tired."

"Is it home?" he prods. "Is it getting worse? McMullen bothering you?"

"I'm telling you that there's nothing. I'm just having a bad day."

Sirius sighs, his head dropping. Then it lifts once more, this time with a smile that's…sad. "You know I think we get along so well because we're the same, you and I." Cressida watches his face, curiosity showing through her eyes. Sirius smiles wider, resting his chin on her knee. "We're both very defensive about what we're feeling. We hate anybody thinking we can't handle our own emotions. Yet we're terrible at hiding anything from our faces."

Cressida doesn't bother to tame the coy smile that his tease brings. Sirius laughs softly at her childish expression. "Thank you. For caring."

"We all care about you. Especially James if you give him a chance to. You want to tell me what happened?" Cressida shakes her head. Sirius folds his lips inwards. "Okay. But don't leave him in the dust. He's told me that you've been keeping your distance."

"Not on purpose, I just…"

"I get it. Stuff happened," Sirius finishes, nodding slowly.

Remus meandering into his room. He folds his hands under his opposite arms. "I thought that if we were taking naps, I might join. Full moon is tomorrow."

Sirius licks his lips, with a laugh that sounds more like it belongs with their normal banter, he says, "Must be that time of the month for the both of you then." He quickly stands up, backing away from the pair. Cressida grasps his pillow, launching it towards his head. Deflecting it with his arm, the dark-haired boy quickly darts out of the room.

Cressida sighs, gloomy now that she'll have to move to retrieve the pillow. Looking to Remus, she admits, "He's not wrong."

Remus lets out a tired and airy chuckle, falling onto his bed.