Chapter 47: Her Saviour or Her Death
The process of waking is slow and painful. To Cressida, at first, it feels like constant attempts of her mind to try and reawaken on the floor of the Graduation Ball, but in one attempt, she feels the coating of a blanket and knows that some time has passed.
She tries to fight off the void that envelops her, but it refuses to let go until it is ready on its own accord.
And once it does, her eyes open freely. She isn't met with blinding daylight or stark whiteness, but rather a soft blue hue of a sky merely half an hour after sunset. The large arched windows of the Hospital Wing look like painted landscapes.
She is still wearing her dress, but cannot see the stains of her blood as a warm blanket covers up to her shoulders. The inside of her mouth still has a lingering taste of metallic, and her nose feels heavy and sore.
But all of that is drowned away by the aching of her muscles. The sensation that she's run a marathon to exhaustion, and this is the next day's delayed onset of soreness.
She hasn't forgotten a single thing.
A sharp release of air from a mouth other than her own sends her eyes searching to her right. "Hey," Remus whispers, leaning forward off his chair. Cressida exhales heavily, smiling from the corner of her lips. "Do you mind falling back asleep? James is going to be pissed that he wasn't here after I blackmailed him to go eat."
Her throat burns with a chesty chuckle. "I can probably manage that," she says, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "Merlin, I feel like shit."
"Well, you look a lot better than you did three days ago," Remus muses in dry mirth. "I should go get Madam Pomfrey."
Before she has the thought to stop him, Remus' chair is left vacant. She is only left alone for less than a minute when a trotting Pomfrey arrives with Remus on her tail. "Glad to see you're awake and talking," she greets promptly. Cressida has no idea what she is doing, sampling drinking and moving when directed. "Thank the lucky stars for that boy. Saved your life he did. Never seen a poison quite like that."
Cressida smiles to herself. "James or Sirius?" she questions, wondering who had the most sensible mind at the time. She already owes them each half her life. Remus' small smile wavers and he shakes his head so subtly that Cressida thinks she imagined it until Pomfrey answers her.
"McMullen, actually, my dear. Recognised the poison and whipped out the antidote. Slughorn was most impressed, and so was most of the staff."
McMullen? Arthur?
"I'm going to go see Slughorn about fixing you up with a good few sleeping draughts to take home after you travel back. Your body is still recovering and I'm not certain what that's quite going to look like yet."
Cressida's mouth is parted with two dry lips and a heavy tongue. Her eyes blink profusely. "Mc…McMullen?"
Remus nods slowly, his eyes filled with both regret but appreciation. "We don't know how he knew but, you would have been dead without him. Nobody knew what to do. You stopped breathing just after you collapsed." He looks away, a hand cupping his mouth and pinches the bottom of his nose. "That's what I was told anyway. By the time I got back with Pomfrey, students were whispering that you were already dead. Sirius was trying to figure out how to do resuscitation. I was about to do it instead but then McMullen pushed his way to you."
Cressida looks away from him. She hates hearing it. Where all eyes turned to her. People worrying about her. It feels wrong and shameful. But she pushes those feelings aside in favour of something far greater and far more powerful. "What did he think he was going to get?" she whispers with teeming rage. "What the fuck does he think he's going to get!"
The blanket pools around her legs, revealing the long dark stains down her front. Remus stands back up from his chair, arms reaching out but not yet touching her. "Who? What do you mean?"
"That psychopath poisoned me! Then had the balls to proclaim to be my saviour! I'll kill him, I swear I'm going to kill him-" She lunges from the bed, arms outstretched as though the blond headed boy is right there for her to choke. He could have hurt any of them. Cressida was going to encourage James to at least have a small sip from the same goblet, knowing that he'd at least be a little thirsty. He could have chosen Peter, or somehow chosen Sirius or James. And he could have killed any one of them in his sick attempts.
Her chest presses against Remus who tasks himself with holding her to the cot. Her arms thrash around, seeing nothing but sweet revenge. And as much as she feels horrid for putting people close to her through the emotional torment, it sourced from him. It is his fault.
"Let me go!"
She twists from his arms, falling from the cot and onto the ground, knees striking with pain against the stone. "You're not going to get far enough," Remus grunts in protest, now trying to pull her from behind. "Stop. You're hurting yourself."
"What the bloody hell is going on!?" The arms loosen but don't disappear. Two pairs of shoes slap against the stone. Cressida's palms press against the ground, the blue skirt of her dress splaying out, stained and ragged. "Cress? Cress?"
James and Sirius fall to their knees in front of her. Her chest rises and falls in generous movements, pressing against the fitted form. "He did it. He did it," she pants, gripping James' forearms. Her fingers did into his skin, needing him to understand just how serious she is.
James stares at her with tired, glassy eyes, his mouth hung. Despite her push of urgency, his ears don't seem to comprehend her words. Releasing a quivering breath, she is pulled tightly into his arms on the ground.
The anger trickles down into resentment that can be locked away for later. Because there is nothing more important to her at that moment than James. Her head drops onto his shoulder, every muscle in her body relaxing one after the other. His hand digs through the back of her hair, clasping the strands between his fingers in a tight hold but it only makes her feel safer.
"You don't get to do that," he whispers into her ear. "You don't get to leave."
She responds quietly. "I'm so sorry."
His arms quickly push her back, grasping either side of her face instead. "Poisoned. You were poisoned." The anger must have flowed from herself to James as his nose flares and his jaw flexes around. He looks to Sirius. "It had to be one of them. One of those snakes who we both know had something to do with her being targeted by Death Eaters."
"Course it was," Sirius hisses, sitting on his haunches. "Can't know who for certain, but I'm happy killing them all just to make sure." His black eyes move from James to her. "How you feeling, princess?"
She goes to raise her shoulders, but it only brings unnecessary aching. "Ow," she mutters in answer. Sirius smiles bitterly with a small nod.
"WHAT ON EARTH IS MY PATIENT DOING ON THE FLOOR?!"
Four innocent eyes widen, panic swelling in them as Madam Pomfrey returns with a beat in her step. She makes vigorous motions to move. "Get her back on the bed! For heaven's sake, what on earth are you lot doing down there?"
"Meditation practice," Sirius drawls. They all rise back to their feet, Cressida not without assistance. "Monks say it is good for the soul."
"Sort of ironic when Monks don't speak," Remus coughs. Pomfrey gives them all a sharp glare, watching and waiting for her to return to the cot. Cressida settles back on the edge, legs dangling over but the glare doesn't leave so she quickly lies down on a few propped pillows.
They wait until the matron leaves well out of sight once more before falling back into conversation. Remus lays a hand on her shoulder. "I'll go get something from dinner for you to eat and I'll ask Lily if she can grab you a change of clothes from your dorm if you'd like."
"Please." He gives her a nod and gentle smile before leaving the Wing.
"You sort of dampened the mood at the Ball," Sirius mutters in an attempt to lighten the room. "Nobody felt like dancing around after watching someone on the brink of death."
"Stay around to find that out, did you?" she counters with a tired smirk from one side of her mouth. James sits closest to her head, leaning on the cot and silently stroking her hair back away from her face. "Not in here with me as your best friend duties prescribe you?"
Sirius shrugs, bracing his elbow closer to her legs on the opposite side to James, resting his cheek on his fist. "Just going off what I heard," he whispers. "I've been here nearly three days straight. Only reason I left is because Remus said he'd refuse to bring us any food if we didn't get some ourselves. I was prepared to risk that until Pomfrey overheard and forced us out."
Cressida looks down at her toes, guilt beginning to rise. "You didn't have to. You knew I'd be fine."
"No," James croaks, "we didn't." Cressida looks to the very right corner of her eyes, his head mere inches away from hers. "We didn't know what the poison was or what it would do. As much as I hate to admit it, McMullen did save your life. We weren't sure at the time but he got you breathing again. We had no idea if it was temporary or a cure. We had to be here, just in case. Pomfrey even asked for someone to be with you at all times when she couldn't be."
Her eyes close over. "McMullen didn't save me."
"Trust me, we don't want to admit it either-"
Cressida shakes her head, interrupting Sirius. "No, I mean he only saved me from what he did. I don't have any way to prove it, but it was him. I am certain of it."
"Are you sure?"
"It was the drink," she recalls. "I felt it just seconds after I drank it. He gave it to me. I watched him pour it except for a few seconds when I was looking around for you and then he handed it to me. I took it, because… I didn't think he'd be stupid enough to do anything."
"Well fuck," Sirius breathes, falling away from her cot and into the abandoned chair. He looks off to the side, a hand rubbing over his mouth.
A long shaky breath from James switches her attention. His hand stops stroking her hair, running down her cheek and to the back of her neck. "You mean you had to go through that, and I had to sit here with your blood on me – watch you stop breathing and have no idea how to help you – because of the jerk that hasn't left you alone since last year?" Cressida answers by not answering. James pulls her forward, his lips pressing firmly against her forehead. When he leans back, his lips are pressed tightly together as are his brows.
She can feel the pain he does, knowing how close it could have been him. She imagines James lying on her lap with blood pouring from his mouth and nose, chest unmoving. It is utterly gut-wrenching. But he feels that for her. And that part is still incomprehensible.
James and Sirius share an extended glance at each other, a passing of silent conversation.
"I'm going to murder the imbecile," she mutters.
"Not if we get to him first," Sirius responds with a mirthless smile.