Chapter 25: Fine

The Slytherins, of all people, are giving her the least grief. An odd concept. One that she had to take the time to comprehend, wondering if they had been but she had just ignored it. But nothing. No threats, jinxes, curses, glares. Whenever it came to her, it was like she didn't exist. For a short minute, Cressida began to believe that Regulus had said or done something to make them lay off, but that is a hardly reasonable conclusion.

But it also makes figuring out who was involved in her parents' murder (and almost her own), a lot more difficult. Not that she is Poirot by any means. Part of her doesn't want to know. What good will the knowledge bring, other than motivation for revenge? She doesn't want to be driven by that alone. Justice, yes, but revenge… She's seen it get out of hand. A person is never satisfied until they have spilt more blood.

The thought of her parents brings another tear to her face that snaps her from her daydreaming. Cressida wipes it away, coughing and sitting straight at the Gryffindor table. A hand lays on her back as she cuts into the chicken. "You alright?" Cressida looks to her right. James is leaning close to her, his own lunch almost finished.

Nodding, she murmurs, "Yeah. Fine." Her answer doesn't satisfy him at first and he searches her eyes and face for something more, but she has nothing else to say. Eventually, he gives a tiny nod, turning back to his food. Cressida sighs internally, the chicken tasting foul on her tongue. Why can't she just move past their deaths? They were terrible people who met a terrible fate.

She places her knife and fork down, resting her face in her hands instead. It's tiring to even think about it. But perhaps she doesn't have to figure it out on her own.

"Hey, Cress." She lifts her head partially, locking eyes with Remus who sits opposite her. "Tired, or?" Cressida sighs again, knowing exactly what he's implying.

"I think I'm going to write a letter to Dr Kenway," she answers. "Just to ask a few questions. You have his address, right?" Remus nods with a kind smile.

"Doctor?" James echoes. "Have you been seeing a doctor? Like, a Muggle Healer?"

"Sort of," she shrugs tiredly. "He's just… helping me with some stuff."

James' eyes couldn't be softer. He leans closer again. "Do you want to talk to me about it?" Cressida breathes slowly. She doesn't want to put that burden on him. Remus and Sirius carry enough of it. She shakes her head, smiling softly. James leans back straight, his nod stiff and sharp. "Fine," he mutters.

She can see that it's annoyed him, somehow. But would he rather she spill her guts to him? Maybe he would, but Cressida can't find it in herself to do that. Would he realise just how shitty her life is and turn away? Would he get scared? Would he be annoyed at her constant drained mind?

Cressida doesn't want to find out. She can't lose him.

Xx

Cressida and Peter walk side by side, coming from a small group study session for D.A.D.A in the library. Usually, Remus comes with them, but with the full moon that night, he's well and truly under his blankets, hiding from the world. And himself. She wrote notes down extra well this time that she plans on re-writing neatly and with the structure she knows Remus likes to write his own notes in, so he doesn't fall behind.

"Did you ever find out who did it?" Peter questions as they march up the stairs around the fourth floor. They had already been talking about the summer, so the question isn't out of the blue, or rude.

Cressida shakes her head. "No. They've narrowed it down, but apparently, that's none of my business. Aurors aren't the best people persons. Alice is nice though, but she's been put on another case."

"Alice Fortescue?" Peter wonders.

Cressida squints. "I think so. Though she mentioned something about her fiancé, Frank, so I think that might change soon. How do you know her?"

"My father knows her family. Most of them have been Aurors since the job title existed. They're good at it too. Which means that if Alice has been put on another case…"

"Then there's something more important," Cressida finishes knowingly. The news isn't a punch to her gut. Families are dying every other week. At least she has some sort of protection in Hogwarts, despite the blind spots. Her dangerous, Gryffindor act for the day is stuffing her hands in her pockets as she climbs the stairs. One miss-step and she could tumble right over the edge. It makes her laugh aloud, probably sounding slightly insane to Peter.

Her laughter simmers back down as they reach the fifth floor. A few students emerge from a classroom. Chess club, if she is to guess. A head of blond hair, that she's come to loathe upon seeing, emerges. McMullen. Rolling her eyes, she turns them strictly forward to ignore his presence. Peter looks at her, picking up on the change of her body language and follows suit.

"Hey."

They stop; a boy at the top of the stairs, blocking their path. Cressida doesn't bother with niceties. "Move."

Arthur looks between her and Peter, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. His mouth opens, but Peter beats him to it. "I don't like you either," he drawls out. Cressida looks to him with surprise, the feeling escalating as she finds a mirthless smirk on his lips. Looking back to Arthur, his façade drops.

"Just trying to be nice," he mutters. He marches towards them, but brushes between. Peter and Cressida lean to either side, pressing against the railing, watching him go. Her smile grows, staring at her friend.

"The rat bites," she laughs.

He huffs, the smirk dropping into a small smile. "I have to make up for the name Wormtail. Seriously, who came up with that?"

"Probably whoever came up with Bear," she snorts. "They didn't even bother being creative with mine. Although I do feel sorry for Remus with Moony. It's a bit… Point out the flaw, isn't it?" Though she would never call his wolfy side a flaw straight to his face, it is still something that she would find a bit insulting. But Remus has taken it affectionately, and that's all that matters. "That bastard has been following me around, I swear. Between classes, Quidditch. Even at the library sometimes."

Pere frowns, looking over the railing down to where the said boy disappeared to. "Should we tell James?"

Cressida exhales slowly. "Don't see the point. He's not doing anything except annoy us. And knowing James, he'd want to do something back and that would be a terrible idea since he's Head Boy."

"Sirius?" Peter suggests.

Cressida lets out a loud laugh. "Please. We'd never see him again. Which is a good thing for us, but not so good when they start an investigation." Peter laughs with her, giving no sign of argument to her analysis. They find their way back up to the Tower without any more adversities. Remus is sleeping, Sirius and James quietly talking about Quidditch. The latter plays with the stolen Snitch, letting it fly away a short distance before he reaches out to grab it.

Cressida smiles, walking past his bed and snatches it from the air just before he does. James raises his brow in a challenge. Grinning with arrogant victory, she shrugs. "I'm a Seeker." She slumps onto his bed, legs hanging over the edge. "I'm so tired already." Her yawn follows imminently. "Reckon we'll get a quiet night?"

"The quiet nights tend to go longer," Sirius points out.

Cressida only makes a grunting sound, closing her eyes. After a few moments, she feels the soft hands brushing her hair back from her hairline. The motion is more relaxing than it is practical, likely creating a halo of frizz. Her eyes peel back open. James is still sitting on his bed, legs crossed. His chin rests in a palm, the elbow driving into the inside of one of his knees. The other hand is the one at her head. He's smiling down at her, looking rather goofy. "What are you looking at?" she murmurs.

"Nothing," he sings back under his breath. "You should get some sleep if you're that tired."

Cressida blinks slowly, well and truly considering the idea. But her head shakes, and she forces herself back up, handing him the Snitch. "I need to write notes for Remus." Sliding off the mattress to the floor where her bag lays, she digs through for the notes. Clearing a small space on James and Peter's shared desk, Cressida begins copying them over with the neatest hand she can manage.

By the time the sun has set and dinner would be served soon in the Great Hall, her notes are finished. She even doodled a few things around the margin. Her left wrist, which is resting idly against her head is pulled away gently. Cressida breathes out a long sigh, turning her head with a gentle smile at James who is inspecting her silver bracelet.

"Why aren't I on here?" he teases.

Cressida huffs, leaning against the desk. "Because I didn't think I was going to get it back. And I didn't have time to shop around once I did. We'll go looking this Christmas though. If we find a deer, that can be your present to me."

James smiles from the corner of his mouth, his thumb pressing against the small bear print. "Stag," he corrects. Cressida repeats it with a short laugh. "I can write a letter to Father, and order one to be made."

"Actually I sort of like the idea of hunting them down. Makes it a bit more special," Cressida whispers. "But if we don't find one by the Christmas after this, then we can do that."

James nods with a content smile. "Alright," he agrees. "We could go down to London for the day."

"We should go after Christmas, they'll have heaps of sales."

James narrows his eyes, fingers sliding from her wrist, over her palm and then between hers. "Price doesn't matter," he draws out steadily. Cressida smiles meekly, squeezing his hand as he pulls it towards his lips and kisses their joined fingers. "And I'm not giving you your present after Christmas. Although, I'm definitely going to get you something else."

"Don't spoil me," she warns humorously. Cressida slides from the chair, letting go of James' hand and wanders over to Remus' cot. He looks dead, but she knows that the night will be worse if he doesn't eat. So, ever so gently, she stirs him from the slumber. "Rem, it's time for dinner."

He grumbles and groans, a stark contrast from his usual soft demeanour. Cressida takes nothing personally, not even when he pushes her hand away as he sits up. As he sluggishly walks to the bathroom, Cressida places her notes for him on the top of his note pile, knowing he'd find it sooner or later.

Dropping her soft and gentle movements, she spies Sirius sprawled out asleep on his own bed. His limbs all hang over at some point, his snores becoming louder each second. Grabbing the pillow which he isn't even using, she holds it down over his face. The snores deafen and she waits with a satisfied grin.

Sirius jolts after a few seconds, unable to breathe and now wide awake. Cressida laughs, tossing the pillow aside as Sirius nearly jumps from his bed. His eyes are tired and wide, filled with grogginess. "Attempted murder," he gasps breathlessly. "If I die in the next few days, you already have a suspect."

"I don't think anybody is going to be complaining about your death," James snorts. "The funeral is going to be a celebration."

Sirius only snarls at him, picking up his pillow and smacking it against Cressida's side. "I hate you all."

"I woke you up for food," she points out.

Sirius squints, his hand pausing mid-air. "I… dislike you, and hate the rest of you."

Again, shoutout to anniestark - every single update you're there to review and I'm so glad to have you around! And thank you to everyone else as well!