Chapter 16: Twitching Mind
Cressida twirls her new wand around as she and James sit outside of Florean Fortescue's Ice-cream Parlour. They are waiting on Sirius who said he wanted to pick something up, despite James' assurance that they would be back for their usual school supplies closer to the end of the break.
Eleven inches. Holly. Phoenix feather. Firm.
It doesn't feel like hers and the weight is different, making her twirling lopsided. But there is no way to mend her old, so Cressida stays quiet on her complaints.
They have an ice cream in front of them to share, and James eats at it quietly. She tried a few bites, but the sweetness of the flavour only makes her feel ill and unsettled. So instead, she watches the main street, the lives of others go by, making up little stories in her head of what their day has been like.
Strangers. So many strangers. There are a few recognisable faces, though she can hardly place them. Except for Madam Hooch who is chatting away with one of the storekeepers of Quidditch Quality Supplies.
Finding nothing more interesting, Cressida sighs and moves to look towards James once more but something new catches her attention just over the brim of his shoulder.
Regulus.
Nothing overly interesting as he is only walking down the alley, but she still finds him an interesting concept altogether. Strange, a better word. A puzzle that she can't quite figure out. He walks nonchalantly towards her way, eyes drifting over the crowd in front of him, almost deducing the best path so he can avoid the most people.
Then something behind his eyes changes and his search of the alley becomes more goal-orientated. He keeps searching, his stride ever so slightly slower. Cressida looks away, picking up her abandoned spoon. She takes a bite, the coldness painful on her teeth.
She just can't help herself. As the well-dressed boy is within speaking distance, she looks back up, meaning to only glance as though he is another stranger, but their eyes lock. His eyes don't narrow calculatingly as they tend to in the kitchens. In fact, they are wide and attentive. There is a hesitation in his next step like he intends to stop and say something to her, but his eyes move from hers to the back of James' head and keeps moving past her.
Cressida doesn't turn her head to keep watching him.
"Are you kidding me?" James laughs tiredly. Cressida snaps from her daze, reading over James' face. He is looking over her shoulder so she follows the line. It takes her a moment, still seeing the back of Regulus' head, but further down, there is another similar colour of hair. Sirius is grinning like a dog, a broomstick in hand. Cressida doesn't laugh, but her smile grows fond, knowing exactly what broomstick he brought, and why. "Jealous nitwit."
"You're stupid if you thought he wouldn't buy it," Cressida muses, knowing just how envious Sirius becomes. She would call it a fault, but it can become rather entertaining. But there are moments where it has become dark.
She realises that Sirius and Regulus are about to cross paths, and her interest piques. Would they just ignore each other as they do in Hogwarts' halls? No. Apparently not. Breaking from his doggish grin, Sirius actually steps forward to intercept his brother, a hand grasping his upper arm. She can't tell how tight it is from a distance, but Regulus stops. Sirius says something to him. Short. Regulus nods and then continues walking, Sirius grip slipping easily then the latter is jogging back up towards his friends.
"I know I didn't need it since I'm the best flyer on the team-" both Cressida and James scoff at that, "-but I thought it would be best to stay at the top. Have a broom that matches my capabilities, you know."
"Or to make up for the lack of them," James goads. Sirius stands over the back of her chair, and the top of his broomstick stretches over the table, poking James' shoulder. "And here I was thinking I'd have to kick you off the team."
The poking becomes harsher, James now having to defend himself, laughing at Sirius' grumbles. Cressida smiles softly, resting her chin on her palm. The boy's laughter dies down, and then she has a hand smacking her fingers away from her mouth. "Don't bite at your skin," Sirius scolds. Cressida glares at him. She hadn't even realised she was biting.
"Could have said it nicer, Pads," James mutters in her defence.
"And treat her like a child?" Sirius retorts.
James rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair. "No. Treat her like a woman. A grown woman."
Cressida rolls her tongue over the back of her teeth, hoping her silence would show them that she really doesn't care to argue about such a petty thing. "I was," Sirius drawls. "Don't get all high and mighty, I've seen you do exactly the same."
"Yes," James sighs, exasperated as she is on their pathetic argument. "But I know when the right time is. You really don't have a sense of empathy, do you?" Cressida's knee starts bouncing, her hand moving back to her face and her nails digging into her bottom lip. Can't they just stop? It doesn't matter. "You're going to upset her even more."
"I am?" Sirius growls. "You're the one who fucking put her in this situation. I'm the one who got her out of it. Both times."
The tension raises high enough that Cressida can't sit down any longer. The metal chair legs scrape against stone, likely pushing Sirius out of the way as well. New wand in hand, Cressida declares, "I'll meet you at home," before she disapparates out of Diagon Alley, and reappears back in the manor.
She hiccups, covering her mouth with her sleeve and looks around the main living room. Her fingers are shaking and her teeth beginning to chatter together. But the arguing has stopped.
A soft humming fills the manor, growing closer by the second. Euphemia sways around a corner, a silver platter with biscuits and small sandwiches laid upon it. The soft natured woman smiles wider upon seeing Cressida, her eyes skimming the room for her two boys, but they haven't decided to come back yet. "Cressida? Came back alone, did you?" Cressida nods, her eyes pressing together. Euphemia's stance changes, her smile faltering. "Is everything alright, dear? Are the boys alright?" Cressida nods again. Euphemia places the silver tray down on a small table then strides towards her, arms grasping each of her now trembling arms. "Whatever is the matter?"
"They were arguing," Cressida croaks. "Bickering, really," she adds to ease the worry about the idea of a proper fight occurring. Hiccup. "I just-I… I can't watch them fight. Not right now. I-I can't handle it."
It just becomes too much. The thing that would tip her over. If James and Sirius fight, it feels like they're both being torn away. Euphemia exhales, her face filled with nothing but compassion. "Stupid boys," she whispers before drawing her arms entirely around Cressida. Cressida feels the hiccups transform into a soft sob as she hides her face away.
Xx
Sirius and James returned only a little while after, the traces of their argument long gone. Cressida retreated to the back porch, taking residence on the hanging chair. It's summertime; she should be flying around on her broom, going to the Weasley's.
The back door creaks open, closing just as softly as it opened, James' stopping it from slamming shut. He has a hand in his pocket, the other running through his messy hair then readjusting his crooked glasses. As he walks towards the swing, Cressida removes her feet so he has a place to sit.
He sits, quietly but attentive to the world around him. The seat barely sways underneath them. Cressida's eyes are turned to the large field in front of them which turns to the forest of dark green. "Should I be the one apologising, or should I get Sirius to?"
Cressida' lips tweak upwards, softly shaking her head. "Neither," she whispers. "Just… don't argue again. Please."
"I can't promise anything," James answers with a slight breath of a chuckle that doesn't fully form. "But he's sulking at the moment and probably won't come out of his room for a few hours." Cressida huffs through her nose. She doesn't quite know what the boy would be sulking about in particular, but she doesn't bother to ask James who would only have the same guesses as her. "Do you want to talk to me?"
Cressida's lips part in a slow exhale, her eyes slowly drifting from the grassy plain to the boy next to her. "I don't even know," she answers the indirect question. "You two always bicker about stupid things, but it just felt like it was so much worse than it actually was. Like that argument could've ended your entire friendship."
"Sirius is my brother. Nothing is ever going to change that."
Cressida smiles back out to the plain. "I know. I wouldn't let it happen." James smiles contently, his arm stretching over the back of the chair and she sinks comfortably into it. His fingers lightly graze her shoulder, his thumb rubbing against the soft tissue above her collarbone. "What are we, James?"
The question draws his eyes to her, certainty filling them. Her confident, Gryffindor, cocky boy. "We are," he begins with a brow and sly grin raising, "two people, who are good friends, but also have feelings for each other and are exploring that."
Cressida nods slowly, tongue poking her cheek. "So I don't call you my boyfriend? Do I still just call you my friend?"
James' grin doesn't waver and neither does his confident mask. "You can call me your boyfriend if you want. I'm happy to be that. I just feel like you should wait and make sure that's what you want. We haven't really had the time to… delve into it. And I'm not going to rush you." Boyfriend? The title does sound a bit odd. But calling him her friend also feels a bit diminishing of what is happening between them. "You know," James says, sitting deeper into his seat, "I wrote you a letter, professing my feelings and you still haven't actually told me how you feel."
Her cheeks flush a dusty red colour. "I thought you said you wouldn't rush me."
"I won't. I was just pointing out the fact." Her smile only grows as he laughs softly and leans down to kiss her shoulder. "I know how to wait." Five words that make her heart ache. He's waited so long to just not be rejected. And she can't even give him everything at that moment.
Xx
Cressida sits at her desk, legs pulled underneath her. In her hand is a letter written by an extraordinarily neat hand that is very much more legible than Sirius' cursive. From Lily. She heard the news about Cressida's parents and sent the letter to James' address in hopes that she was here already. It's sincere and Cressida is touched that she reached out. Sirius still hasn't come out of his room, the only exception being for dinner but even then, he was quiet.
In the middle, there is two short lines scratched out, and Cressida can just make out her name, as though she intended to finish the letter there, but decided to continue on. Lily writes about James. How she's sorry for having the letter, but honestly didn't bother to read the envelope where Cressida's name was when she picked it up. An honest mistake that Cressida already didn't blame her for, since she ignored the letter because it was on Lily's side of the desk. But it is clear that Lily feels embarrassed by the entire situation. Cressida knows she is going to write back and make sure things are alright. Their friendship, or whatever it might have been was already thin and she would hate for them to be at ends over misunderstandings.
As she writes the letter in return, her door is pushed open. Cressida glances to her right, watching Sirius enter cautiously. He doesn't say anything but he acknowledges her through his gaze. He swallows. Cressida gives her permission by going back to her letter and letting him be there if he pleases. She doesn't bother to know what he is doing – her room has always been open to him. But her curiosity grows at the sound of her blankets being moved around.
Tearing her gaze away from the letter, Cressida watches as Sirius crawls into her bed, already pulling the light summer blanket over his stomach. His arm curls underneath the pillow, staring out the open window that looks over the field. His dark eyes snap down to her, reading her face intently before settling back on the window. Cressida smiles softly, turning around once more.