Chapter 17: Kenway

Cressida is having the best sleep she's had in a very long time, sleeping well past breakfast, and nobody bothers to wake her. Except Remus. Her shoulder is shaken, albeit gently, enough to make her grumble. But her incoherent curses that are useless without her wand in hand die in her throat as her eyes focus to find the sandy-haired boy sitting on the side of her bed. "Remus?" she croaks tiredly, finding the energy to push herself up. "I thought you weren't coming for another two weeks."

He, as well as Peter, had of course been in touch with her and the other two and know of the events that have gone down. "How are you doing?" he asks her, ignoring her own point. Cressida slumps, shrugging. She probably looks a mess first thing after she wakes up.

"Fine."

Remus smiles as though he doesn't believe her. "I'm so sorry. I wanted to come over sooner and tell you that in person rather than by letter but James said that you needed space first."

Cressida runs her tongue along the dry walls of her mouth, eyes dropping to the bedsheets. "Yeah," she can't help but agree. She did, and still does, but having Remus around is comforting. It's normal. And safe. She feels safe.

He leans forward, his long and thin arms encasing her, and Cressida folds into him. The embrace alone is enough to swarm her with undealt emotions. The comfort of his soft vest against her bare arms brings her to a place of comfort and knowing. "I'm so sorry," he repeats. They stay like that until she finally releases him and wipes her eyes. Remus places a soft hand on her blanket-covered knee. "Have you been having panic attacks lately?"

Immediately she shakes her head. No, she hasn't. Cressida has seen panic attacks happen. Sirius has had them; at least one. "No. Why?"

Remus smiles tenderly, squeezing her knee. "I want to take you somewhere today. I think it will do you some good."

She eyes him cautiously. Remus is well known in their small group for his ingenious plans. "Where?"

"Someplace I like to go. I've been going since I was seven and it's helped me a lot."

"Are Sirius and James coming?"

"Just us. I mean, you can ask them to come if you'd like but I think you'd feel better if they weren't." That doesn't settle her nerves. It must show on her face. "I just mean that you might feel more comfortable if you don't think people are going to be listening. But we will come straight back after."

"Do they know?"

Remus shakes his head. "They know I'm taking you somewhere, but I don't think they'd understand. Truthfully, I think it would cause a bit of panic." Her mind grows fuzzy with confusion, but before she can question and further, Remus slides from her bed. "I'll have some breakfast for you when you come down. But we have to be there by one."

Cressida glances at the clock. Eleven-thirty. Where on earth is Remus taking her? She has no other choice than to agree. He just shows up two weeks early and drags her off? Sounds more like a Sirius thing than a Remus thing. Cressida snorts to herself, sliding from her bed to get ready for the day.

Xx

The emerald green fire vanishes before her eyes. In front of her no longer stands the dark-wooded manor, but a brick-walled cottage-like home. Remus steps out of the fireplace first and Cressida trails behind him, taking in the small home.

A lady that she does recognise appears from around the corner. Hope, Remus' mother has her dark hair pulled into a claw clip, a few odds strands hanging out. Her shoulders are covered in a light pink cardigan, covering a white blouse. Unlike Euphemia, her skin does not hide her age, but her brown eyes are just as soft and welcoming. "Cressida," she greets, marching forward. There's remorse in her tone, but also pleasantness. The older woman embraces her, and Cressida instantly knows where Remus learnt to hug from. It's warm and engulfing. "I heard about what happened. I'm truly so sorry."

"I'm dealing with it," she responds. Fine. I'm dealing with it. Thank you. The responses are becoming more and more common the more she interacts with people.

"Of course you are," Hope sighs. "Would you like a cup of tea or some lunch?"

"No thanks, Mum," Remus answers for her. "She had breakfast not long ago and if we stay and wait for you to make tea, we'll be two hours behind." Cressida isn't sure of their inside joke about tea making, but she laughs all the same at Remus' retort and his mother's sharp gaze in return.

Cressida is about to ask why they've come to his home – and ask to see more around, but he takes her hand and once more, the world in front of them disappears, this time, through the pipe of apparation rather than flu-powder.

They reappear, Cressida stumbling slightly, trying to readjust to her new surroundings. They are in an alleyway, though not as dark as the ones in London or her hometown. "This is just in town," Remus explains. "I didn't want to apparate all the way here from James' so the house was just a pit stop."

"And where's the finish line?" she drawls. Remus spares her a quick smirk at her play on terminology, but he answers her by pointing to a building just across the road. There is nothing special about it. A typical English styled building that joins with the ones on either side of it, long and narrow. A sign hangs from the trimming but they stand head on and she cannot read it at all. "How long will we be here?" she asks as Remus leads her out of the alleyway.

He looks down each direction of the road, waiting for a car to pass, and then guides her along it. The road is glossy and slippery. They had rain last night. "An hour. Almost exactly."

Cressida doesn't have a response to that. But as she jumps the little uphill back onto the path, she looks up at the sign. 'Dr. Kenway', it reads. A doctor? Like a medical doctor? Her feet plant on the ground, resisting Remus' tug to move up the short stairs. She's seen enough Healers.

Remus stops pulling on her, instead, giving in to her resistance and stands at her side. "He's a therapist. A psychiatrist." Cressida's stomach churns, but she isn't ready to run away yet. "You don't like Healers, do you? I mean, you like Madam Pomfrey enough, but Healers in themselves."

"I mean," Cressida gulps, "I don't dislike them."

Remus only smiles. "I feel the same. I feel like sometimes they have it too easy. They just whisk away the problem with a potion or two. Mend bones with an hour. Cure diseases within days. It took me a while to realise it, but more often than not, they don't search beyond physical abnormalities. The wizarding world is incredibly vast and different from the Muggle world, but Muggles have had to adapt without magic and I think that has its advantages. Wizards… they don't have the same biological understanding of the body as Muggles do, but they don't realise it. Especially when it comes to mental health." Remus moves in front of her, a hand on either one of her arms. "I know your parents wouldn't have brought you to one of these, and you've never would have received the help you need at Hogwarts so please come in. You don't have to come back."

"Remus," Cressida murmurs, stepping away from the staircase that leads to a red front door. "I don't–I'm handling it fine."

Remus smile grows more sympathetic. "Honestly, Cress, I was going to bring you here before that happened." Her brows pinch together. Why would she have needed someone like this before?

Her defences are giving way, her trust stronger than her doubt. In one last feeble attempt, she mutters, "I think it's Sirius you should be bringing here."

Remus' eyes widen in an expression of agreement that draws a short laugh from her as he finally guides her inside. Cressida holds the back of his vest. They travel up one level; the stairs covered in a dark red carpet that matches the front door. There are potted plants in corners and strange art hanging from the walls. The bottom half of the walls have a wooden boarding with squared engravings, and the top half is a faded yellow. It feels like an office that someone tried to make a home.

Remus knocks on a door with a silver plaque that has Dr. Kenway engraved on it. Cressida's reflection is warped, but she is still faced with a stark reminder of how tired she is.

A man opens the door. The first thing she notices is his salt and pepper hair that is shortly cut, stretching down around his jaw. His nose is straight and bold, but fitting for his face and acts as a perch for squared glasses. His eyes are a quiet grey, hidden behind large frames.

"Remus," he greets first, and the two men shake hands. "And this must be Miss Hawthorne."

Cressida nods, reminding herself to use her voice. "Yes."

His smile is much kinder than most she has received from strangers before. But she already feels under examination. "Why don't you come in," he says, stepping away from his door and extending his arm towards his office. Cressida peeks in, finding a desk with stacks of paper, a brown lounge and a half-teacup like seat. A stream of light comes in through the window behind the desk, but it is muted from the greyness of the cloudy day.

Not letting go of Remus' vest, she steps forward, expecting the boy to come in with her. But he pulls her hand away, and she looks back at him with unsure eyes. "I'll wait out here." He smiles confidently. Cressida looks back at Dr Kenway, then at Remus once more. Unfurling the last of his vest, she walks into the room and the door is closed behind her.

Dr Kenway, she discovers, matches his appearance, though she cannot exactly pinpoint just how so. He is a swift talker, but he asks way too many questions in her opinion and many of them she has no idea how to answer. But for the sake of making Remus' efforts to help her, she answers them as honestly as she can. What's the harm in trying? She doesn't have to come back, nor has she promised anything.

They talk for the entire hour, except for one pause where Cressida had to think for a long time before answering. How happy are you right now? Dr Kenway knew of her parent's recent deaths and had a peculiar understanding of the events. But her grieving process wasn't the focus, matching Remus confession that it wasn't the reason she was here. Why else would she be here though? What has she done through the past that Remus went to the measures of booking her an appointment with a therapist? And Remus never told her he was seeing one in the first place.

"Anxiety."

It isn't just an acknowledgment of how she feels through a certain event. He says it as a sum-total of her time, an hour, with him. A conclusion.

"Some other things are revealing themselves too. Trauma responses mostly. But I don't think we have time in this session. I would like for you to come back," he adds.

"What does that mean?" Cressida questions, her eyes narrowed and her neck stretching backwards in a defensive hold. "I know that people feel anxious sometimes. But I don't feel like that always."

Dr Kenway smiles softly, the calculating expression not wavering. "Don't you?" Cressida grits her teeth – another question. "All the signs are here, and you just told me." He goes on to explain what he believes she is suffering from and her options for help. His first recommendation is behaviours like meditating, calm breathing but also offers to prescribe her medications if she so wishes it. Cressida quickly shakes her head. Even if they did help her, she wouldn't be able to access them at Hogwarts. "You tend to avoid things that make you nervous," he notes, glancing down at his notepad. "You'd rather quit than fail. Avoidance anxiety we call that."

They talk a little more, delving a little deeper into what makes her the most comfortable and how to replicate those feelings. But there is only so much they can do in one hour. Cressida slowly rises from the chair, Dr Kenway sauntering forward to lay a hand on her shoulder. "You did very well for someone who came in quite defensive."

"I was… anxious," she mumbles, laughing at the irony of her words. Dr Kenway laughs with her as he guides her towards the door. "Thank you."

He bows his head slightly, opening the door for her. "Just doing my job." Cressida nods in another thanks, glancing at Remus who is folding away a Muggle newspaper in the waiting hall seating area. "Oh, and-" she looks back at him "-if you ever need to, feel free to send me an owl."

A response catches in her throat. The man smiles once more at her before waving down another man in the seating area, closing the door behind them once more. "Legilimens," Remus announces quietly. "And he's quiet about it."

Cressida's jaw is still slack but she manages to grasp a comprehension of what just happened. Resetting her jaw, she grumbles, "Well he asks a lot of questions for someone that can enter minds."

Remus cackles as they saunter back towards the stairs to leave. It isn't until they are walking down the road, with no particular direction in mind that he asks her, "So, what did he have to say?"

Her walk is crooked, purposefully crossing her legs with each step. "Do you mind keeping it to yourself?"

"Completely confidential."

Cressida is confident in his promise, knowing that if someone could keep something to themselves, it would be Remus. But before she answers, she asks, "Why did you bring me here? What did you think I needed?"

Remus presses his lips together and keeps his hands comfortably inside his pant pockets, his walk much like hers. "Stress. Of some form. At first, I thought it was just from school and hoped that once we graduated it would calm, but when I learnt about your home, I realised it was more."

Cressida nods, folding her arms as the weather cools around them. "Anxiety," she confesses. "And something about having trauma responses. At least that's his opinion." She leaves out the part of trauma… Or whatever it was the man mentioned.

"His trained opinion," Remus adds. "I mean, he did have to trick his way into a university, but he graduated like everybody else. And honestly, I'm not surprised that he said that. Are you… alright?"

Her shoulders move up and down, lips twisting over each other. "It's supposed to help, isn't it? Knowing this stuff?"

"Yes," Remus answers swiftly and confidently. "You know what it is, you can help it. Or at least try to. Do you want to head back to James?" Cressida nods and Remus apparate them back to his home then they take Floo-powder the rest of the way.

Sirius and James are playing chess in the small library. "Finally," Sirius drawls with a smirk as the pair emerge into the room. "Did you bring back food?"

Remus rolls his eyes and Cressida simply ignores his remark. "Where did you go?" James asks, more kindly and with a genuine interest. Cressida smiles at them both, walking up to their chairs and leans against James'. His arm quickly snakes around the back of her legs.

"He just introduced me to someone," she answers. "Thought we'd get along well."

"Did you?"

Cressida glances to Remus, but he doesn't seem bothered by her answer. "Well enough. He was very talkative though."

I'm honestly terrible at remembering but shoutout to everybody in the reviews! You guys are amazing!