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Chapter 21: Foolish Apologies

Cressida could be doing a lot of things right now. She could be working on the pile of homework that she's already been given in just one week, or she could be looking at the potion she knows that they are going to make on Monday morning. Or she could be in bed still. But no.

Cressida is not doing any of that because she is sitting inside the Gryffindor Quidditch tent, rubbing the sleep off her eyes since James dragged her down before breakfast even started so he could draw out a game plan that 'came to him in his dreams'.

He yanked a blackboard to the front of the tent, white chalk scraping against the surface. At first, she had been grumbly and uninterested since they hadn't even held try-outs yet, but the more she watches him, the more she appreciates the moment.

James' mouth doesn't stop moving, nor does his hand, drawing circles and lines until his sketch of the field becomes a child's drawing that only he understands. His enthusiasm is contagious. Cressida sits on the bench, her head lopped near her shoulder with a goofy smile. Not one word that he says makes sense in her mind, but she watches him intently.

"So we could have this move, where-" he pauses, scratching another line on the board "-me and the other Chasers, like…" Cressida doesn't understand anything else of that sentence. "What do you think?"

She blinks hard, neck pulling back up straight. What did he even say? It's like a student watching a teacher they have a crush on. "I think it's amazing," she laughs, pushing off the seat.

"Of course you do," he dismisses with a cocky laugh and a wink. He points to a circle on the board. "I'm just not sure about this part." Cressida walks up to his side, staring at the spot. She has absolutely no idea what it is supposed to mean. James' cocky persona falls. "You weren't listening, were you? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have dragged you out here. You haven't even eaten or…" He rolls his eyes at himself, dropping the chalk back in the small holder. He folds his arms with a frown, staring at the board.

Cressida pouts, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from the side. "You wanna know why I wasn't listening?" she murmurs, resting her chin on the curve of his shoulder. James glimpses down at her but refuses to answer. "You're very attractive when you talk like that."

His body language changes instantly. That damn arrogant grin creeps back. "Really?" he drawls, eyes flickering up and down her face. "No wonder Sirius never listens." Cressida lapses into a giggle, stepping around to his front. Her arms comfortably settle around his neck, revelling in how his hands sink to around her waist. "What else do I do that's attractive?"

Cressida shakes her head, bottom lip between her teeth. "No, I think I've given you enough today already." She doesn't need him knowing all her weaknesses. James pouts in a similar fashion to her previous one but it quickly dissolves back into a grin. Cressida moves forward first, thinking about nothing else in that moment. He catches on fairly quickly in a surge of passion that she honestly didn't expect back.

She leans back, laughing out of giddiness as James soaks in her reaction. Reaching up, she runs her fingers through his hair, pushing his short fringe away from his framed glasses.

"You do that," he says, one side of his mouth higher than the other. Cressida's eyes flick down to his, squinting in questioning. "I bloody love it when you mess with my hair."

"I've always messed with your hair," she notes, a little absent-minded as she tries to remember all the times she's done so.

James licks his lips with a short nod. "I know. It annoyed me when we were younger, but I think you did it to irritate me anyway."

Cressida laughs softly, her nose wrinkling up. "Maybe," she confesses. In all honesty, they haven't had many moments like these yet. Like James had confessed, they hadn't had their movie moment and everything feels slow. Maybe… just maybe she's still a little hesitant. Wondering if its suddenly going to change or he's going to realise that it is Lily after all. "When did that change?"

He breathes deeply in thought, eyes wandering as his mind works. "Around… fourth year, I think. Near exams. I was stressed because I couldn't remember all the reasons for laws against unethical human transfiguration and you stayed up all night with me, even though you hadn't a clue yourself." He laughs at the picture inside his mind. "While I was reading, you just, did that and I liked it ever since. Merlin, I used to get so jealous when you'd do it to Sirius instead of me."

Cressida hides her laughter into her shoulder but he doesn't bother hiding his own. "Couldn't have been too often," she notes, "he used to always smack my hand away."

"Bit like a feral cat that way, wasn't he?" Tipping his head to the side, he corrects himself. "Dog. Feral dog. Wouldn't let people touch him. Really wasn't even until this year that he doesn't fight back at all."

"Probably realised I'm just as stubborn as he is. But I think loves it. Searches for it sometimes."

"Why do I feel like we're parents discussing their rouge child?"

"Because we are. And Remus is the uncle on my side, and Peter is the cousin on your side."

James squints, staring at the side of the tent. "Why does that work?" he questions the world. "I think we should put him up for adoption."

Cressida hums, tipping her head from side to side. "Ironically, our child is actually older than all of us. And of age. Maybe we can ship him off to Remus for a while?"

Xx

The hallway isn't empty, but it isn't exactly bursting either. Students of all Houses and years wandering through to their next class. On her timetable is Care of Magical Creatures, which she shares with Sirius. Rather than walking to the lower fields, Cressida is leaning against the wall, opposite a series of stained-glass windows.

'I have to piss,' Sirius had hissed in her ear, darting off to the lavatories. Rather than spending the walk down alone – albeit being on time – she waits for him, just outside the door. They share the class with Slytherins and she'd rather not be alone down there. Cressida doubts that anybody else would bother talking with her, even her own House.

Her thoughts trail back to Elias. He had confided that he found her tight group desirable, and she returned that she was jealous of his ability to make friends with a lot of people. Elias would be able to go down there and not have to worry about who he stood next to. But Cressida does, and she's okay with that. Okay with the fact that, yes, while she can't talk with a stranger easily, she has Sirius. And Sirius is worth more to her than thirty odd acquaintances.

Her eyes watch the hall, almost waiting for danger to pop out of nowhere. And it does, but the most pathetic version possible. Arthur McMullen saunters through the corridor, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a folder. His hair is longer and brushed back, curtaining his forehead, looking like silk. If she didn't despise his guts, she'd ask him what shampoo he uses – and recommend it to Snape. But she does, so she'll have to deal with dry hair.

Just walk past her. Come on. She can't be bothered.

"Hawthorne."

Cressida's nose flares, the tip of her tongue pressing against the back of her teeth. "McMullen," she greets flatly. "The boys aren't around. There's nobody to impress here."

He shakes his head. "I'm not here for them." He rounds off his shoulder, eyes pointed to the floor between them. "I'm here for you. To apologise." Cressida's deadpan expression wavers but her guard doesn't drop. "It was dickish, and I shouldn't have used you."

"No," she agrees. "And it's no wonder you weren't put in Slytherin. Your plan was stupid and easy to see."

The sincerity in his eyes shrinks as a hardness replaces it within seconds. "You fell for it easily enough."

"I was foolish enough to ignore it," she counters, her voice smooth and calm, compared to his rough-edged tone. "And watch your tone. I don't accept your apology."

"Fucking hell," he scoffs. "I'm not asking you to go out with me again, just to forgive me so we can move on."

Cressida plants the fakest smile she can conjure. "Good. Because that would be more foolish than me ever saying yes in the first place. I've moved on. I don't care about you, but that doesn't mean I forgive you. It just means I don't waste my energy thinking about it." She leans forward, moving off the wall and takes three steps towards the boy in front of her. "You had a chance to apologise to me but instead you chose to apologise to James. Which is valid, since he deserved one, but you barely even addressed me. And this leads me to believe that this apology is coming from a place where you want my forgiveness, knowing how close I am to James, in hopes that he will forgive you too because I do."

His jaw moves around, forming ghost words. "I-I-"

"And James might forgive you if I do – though that's very strong on the might – I have friends that will never do such a thing, namely Sirius if you're so curious. And Remus can hold a grudge. Can't say much about Peter other than he will do and say whatever we tell him to." Arthur stays silent, chewing his tongue as the veins in his neck stick out. Cressida holds out her hand. "Would you like to retry your apology or move on?"

"Cressie, I-"

"I thought I told you to fuck off." Cressida glimpses over her shoulder, a swaggering Sirius returning. His tie is loose and crooked, shirt untucked and his wand running between his fingers. He glances down to her with a small smirk. "Didn't I?"

Arthur gulps – and rightly so, in her opinion.

"Cressida also doesn't like that name," he draws out at the boy's silence. "But I'd prefer if you didn't call her anything." Her eyes drop down to Arthur's hand which is creeping out of his pocket with a thin length of wood. Her eyes move back up, a slow shake of her head trying to warn the boy. He doesn't listen. Sirius is always quicker than his opponent. "Impedimenta."

"Idiot," Cressida mutters at both the boys as the turquoise light hits the Ravenclaw in the chest. He flies back a few feet, tumbling along the middle of the corridor, two Hufflepuff girls jumping out of the way. Before he can retaliate, or Sirius can further the duel it would turn into, she grabs his wrist and tugs harshly, leading him away from the scene and towards their outdoor class. "Can't keep your wand out of it, can you?" she declares as they march down the uneven stone steps, the sun blaring on their faces. "I was fine, he doesn't even know how to threaten me."

"I know he can't," Sirius responds, his walk nonchalant and smooth. "It's more of the fact that I've warned him to stay away before. And yet he ignores me."

"When was this?"

"Doesn't matter. But he didn't listen to me so I gave him a taste of what happens if he tries to come near you again."

"I just told you, he's not even a threat. I think I even scared him a bit back there."

"Again, Cress, not my point." He sounds frustrated with her now. "I threatened him, and he's not listening. Which means that I have to go through with my promises."

"And what would those be?"

Sirius jumps down the short drop that's always a pain to walk down, especially when the grounds are still wet from overnight rain. He turns around, hands offered to her. Cressida takes them, hopping down the small drop. "Do you remember when you said you would die for me?" She nods, cautiously. Sirius tips his head forward, something between a smirk and smile donning his thin lips. "Well I would kill for you."

"Bloody hell, Sirius," she laughs. "Are you going to send that threat to everybody who annoys me? There was a second year Hufflepuff boy that accidentally tripped me over yesterday."

Sirius drops his face, pulling his wand and standing in a duel stance. "Where's the fucker? I'll ruin him." Cressida laughs louder, pushing his wand down and brushing past him. "He's got a wand! It's fair game!" Cressida can't help but cackle wildly as Sirius runs to catch up, his weight falling over her shoulder.