Chapter 43: A Silver Cup and the Stained Letter

There are only a few times during the year that the Great Hall is so deafening. And for a moment, Cressida can relax. She doesn't have to think about going home. She doesn't have to think about classes or the exams they've recently finished. She doesn't have to worry about her friendship with anybody. There's a friend on either side of her and there isn't a moment that she isn't brought into their wild conversation.

These moments, lasting as long as Cressida can hold onto them, are the best things she has in life. In the years before, they were so abundant that she hardly recognised when there were times without nothing but happiness. But now they feel so rare that she can't help but pour her entire self into them. And it's exhausting putting all one's self into just one night.

"It doesn't hurt," Cressida tries to bargain. Sirius' eyes are narrowed sceptically from the opposite side of the table. "The eyeliner doesn't touch your actual eye. Not unless you move."

"I'm not wandering around with eyeliner on," he responds in a deadpan. "I'll look like one of those goth people. Have you seen those Muggles? They look like they want to be vampires. Who would want to be a vampire of all things?"

"No?" she laughs. Wriggling her fingers in front of her face, she says in a terrible accent, "Don't you want to say, 'I want to suck your blood!'?"

Sirius just stares at her. "I'm offended on behalf of the entire vampire community."

"I hardly think they're an easily defended bunch."

"Have you ever met a vampire?"

"No, have you?"

Sirius peers off to the side in thought. "No," he agrees. "But my Great Aunt Wistoria did. I attended her funeral three days later." Cressida cringes. "Promise me if I die doing something as stupid as taunting a vampire, you won't even bother with a funeral. Just bury me and forget it. I don't need my life memorialised by whatever it is I did."

"Only if I get all your stuff. That leather jacket included."

"I thought you didn't like leather?"

Cressida smiles from one corner of her mouth. "I said I prefer denim. But that jacket is too nice to pass up."

"Do I get dibs on anything?" James butts in.

Cressida nods to the boy on her right with a sarcastic smile. "You can have his Gryffindor memorabilia. And his broom."

"Don't insult my broom, Hawthorne," Sirius drawls.

Cressida turns her smile back to him. "I'm not. I just have a better one." She begins to wonder what his response is going to be since his mouth doesn't open. But there's a sharp kick from under the table and a spark of pain radiating from her shin. "Ow!" Out of pettiness, Cressida turns her conversation to Peter and Remus.

There's no food in front of them yet, the feast yet to begin as the last few students and teachers wander in. At seven pm sharp, Dumbledore stands. His golden podium comes to life; the metal owl awakening and its wings extending out to each side.

"Good evening students." The sound of student's chatter quietens within seconds. "It is my pleasure to announce that the end of the year has come, and what a brilliant year it has been. I believe we are all aware of the growing darkness outside of these halls but Hogwarts will forever remain one of the safest of places."

Once, Cressida would have believed that. She trusts Dumbledore. But he is not all-knowing as she once thought. Her eyes drift from the Headmaster as he continues on his lengthy speech, moving around to the Slytherin table. She isn't safe. Not completely.

Before her eyes find the culprits, a hand slides over the back of her wrist. The thumb pad runs over the back of her hand. She is safe.

"…And I know there are a few students out there, waiting for some announcements. So, without further a due, I would like to present the Quidditch House Cup to none other than… Gryffindor."

Cressida's shoulders tense at the thunderous roar of applause that erupts from three of the Houses, Gryffindor the loudest of them all. It takes her a moment, but soon she joins in. Her hands sting from the loud claps, hooting and hollering. James and Sirius rise to their feet along with other dedicated members of their House, their whistles and cries of victory somehow distinct over everybody else's.

"If the Captain would like to come retrieve the Cup."

James doesn't hesitate, leaping out of the benched seat. His march towards Dumbledore is long and proud, the absolute epitome of how the world sees him. Cressida revels in the fact that that is her friend. This is her team and she knows that boy better than anybody else in this hall, except Sirius.

James picks the large silver trophy goblet up with both hands, holding it high above his head and the cheers restart. Cressida's cheeks strain, making it her mission to be heard by him over everyone else.

The proud boy takes his time returning to his seat, bowing theatrically. McGonagall rolls her eyes from the teachers' long table, but there's an unmistakable grin behind her lips.

When he finally sits down, Cressida is breathless but keeps her grin on all the same. They hadn't won the House Cup. Ravenclaw does. But the Quidditch Cup is worth more to her. They trained hard, they beat every other House. There were only seven of them. They could lose the House Cup because first years did something stupid, or a biased Prefect. But the Quidditch Cup is theirs through and through.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" James gloats, the Cup on a metaphorical mantle in the middle of the table.

"It is," Cressida agrees, speaking softly now that Dumbledore moves on with his speech. "Where are you going to put it?"

James pinches his lips. "Not sure. Maybe in the music room? Or over the fireplace. It'd look nice there." Sirius ignores the rest of Dumbledore's speech as well. The important part of the night is over. He reaches out towards the trophy, only to be met with a hand slapping his. His face turns aghast, retreating his hand and holding it to his chest. "Wash your hands first," James scolds.

Sirius' wide eyes turn to her. "Bloody hell," he mouths. Cressida holds her giggle, knocking James' side with her elbow.

Xx

And just a few nights later, that moment is gone again. The laughter, the fun. Cressida sits on a small square table near the bookcases in the Common Room, a chessboard between them. Tomorrow morning they'd be on the train back to England.

Her belongings aren't packed yet, despite Mary consistently nagging her about it. But Cressida just couldn't find a single ounce of motivation. Would the staff realise if she stayed? The House-Elves would cook her food and do her laundry. She might get a bit lonely, but surely it would be better than home.

No it wouldn't be. Because none of Sirius' letter would reach her and she knows now what he does when that happens. He talks to people. And Cressida doesn't want him to talk.

She would go to James' house eventually. But even the idea of that has been like a game of tennis in her mind. Some days, it is her only ray of hope, knowing that she'd be somewhere comfortable. But other times, she imagines Lily coming over to stay, taking her room. Taking her seat on the couch. James making her tea. Cressida isn't entirely sure when that day will come, but she knows that she will never be prepared for it.

It is a constant reminder that she is no different from Remus or Peter. A friend welcome to stay. And a part of her is happy for that. Happy to be his friend. But another part… another part wants her to run away. Runaway from them all. They might look for her for a short while, but they would give up. It only seems right for them to give up on her if she gives up on everything too.

Cressida moves her pawn, knowing it opens her king up to Peter's bishop. From her seat, she can see Lily and James sitting alone together near the alcove in the wall. Talking. Intimately. Cressida needs the game to be over with Peter so she can leave.

"I thought you were good at chess," Peter muses with a mirthful smile, instructing his bishop to move towards her king. Cressida only hums. She doesn't watch it, but she can hear her king piece breaking and the marble clanking against the board. "Good game."

Remus and Sirius saunter down their staircase, the latter holding up a pack of cards. "Exploding Snap, anyone?" With a quick glance in Lily and James' direction, the pair chose the wiser option and head towards the other pair at the chess table. "Exploding Snap?"

"Sure," Peter sighs. "The game might last longer than this one."

Cressida only manages a muttered apology. "Sorry."

Remus, Peter and Sirius head over towards the empty lounge in front of the late-night fire, setting up the game on the floor in the middle. Cressida quietly packs away the chess set, finding it's spot on the games' shelf next to the bookcases.

"James? You playing?"

"I'm not playing," James calls back, still sitting with Lily. "But I'll be over in a minute." Cressida watches from the corner of her eye as his head tilts back low and his quiet discussion with the red-head girl continues.

"Cress?" She doesn't hear him. "Cressida? Cressie?"

Her nose shrivels up, eyes snapping to an exasperated Sirius. "Don't call me that."

"Well you weren't responding to anything else. Are you playing or watching?"

James shakes his head at Lily, words still not travelling to her ears. He slides away from their spot, quietly and unhurriedly walking towards the others. "Packing," she answers. "I need to pack."

Sirius scoffs, about to raise an argument, but his words are beaten to by none other than Lily Evans herself. "She really does." Her words are quiet for a usually loud girl. "She hasn't even put her books away."

Lily hasn't previously said anything about Cressida's lack of packing, despite being the most annoyingly organised girl of their dorm and that nags more than Mary. Sirius stares at Cressida for a little while longer before replying. He just nods, giving her a tight-lipped smile.

Cressida doesn't know whether to thank Lily or not, and settles on the same thing Sirius just did. Lily tilts her lips upwards at her but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I'll help you," she offers. "And before you decline, I want to."

"Okay," Cressida reluctantly agrees. "Thank you then."

Lily and Cressida retreat to their dorm with very few words between them. Marlene is napping on her bed, and Mary is not present so the two girls are left with each other as the only company.

Cressida feels like she is helping Lily who takes charge of organising her trunk. She can't argue, as everything fits perfectly and logically placed. Cressida only takes over at the very end, placing her personal belongings in the small compartment underneath the lid. A few trinkets she keeps. Her favourite letters and photographs.

"Here. You forgot this one."

Cressida peers up at Lily who stands over her with a folded letter in hand. There's an ink stain on the back. None of hers has that marking. "No, I don't think that's mine."

Lily licks her lips, holding the letter closer to her. "No, it is." She flips the letter over, revealing her name on the very top part of the letter to label it. Cressida instantly recognises the lettering. Only James curves the ends of a 'c' inwards so much. "It was put with my things. Mary must have put it on my side of the desk by accident on Christmas. I'm really sorry you didn't get it."

"Oh." Cressida carefully takes the letter. It is the letter Sirius swore James sent but she never received. "Thank you, it's fine. I figured it got lost somewhere."

Lily hums, nodding slightly then walks away to her bed. Cressida stares at the letter, wondering what it would say. Does she want to know? Sort of. But not right now. Keeping the letter folded, she tucks it in with the rest then shuts the lid of her trunk.