Chapter 49: Memories

Her fingers trace around the lining where the lid meets the chamber of the chest, her thumbs pressing against the bottom of the latches on either end. It hadn't felt heavy when she picked it up, but she could sense there was something substantial in there in size. And small light clinking of glass. James watches her silently, his lips pressing into the back of her shoulder, the backs of his fingers drifting up and down her side. She can feel the magic coming from inside it, as though it seeps out like a mist.

The latches click open, and Cressida pushes the lid back. Inside, the chest is sorted into rows and columns, and inside each one, a simple glass vial stands. Delicately, fearing they would break alone at the touch, she picks up one to examine its contents.

Inside the vial is something wispy and long, emitting a silvery-blue glowing hue. It screams magic. It looks unearthly and alien. That is until she squints slightly and holds it closer to her eyes.

"Is that… Is that a memory?" she whispers, unable to remove her eyes as it floats around like a hair in water. Spinning the vial around, there is a small label attached with string. 'The First Snowball Fight, '71'.

"It is," James breathes into her ear. "I thought that maybe if you ever feel like you don't belong, that you're having doubts about things or you're just feeling afraid of something, that these might help. They're all my favourite memories. Some of them are just us, some of them are with everyone. My father has a pensieve but I'm going to buy another one that you can have at home."

Cressida only stares at it in silence, her mind racing, trying to guess what they all could contain. Would she remember all of them?

"I told you it is a little weird," he laughs with a half-chuckle, "but I thought of it like how you gave me the photo album. This is mine to you."

"This is so much cooler than photos," she hisses, holding the vial to her chest. "Can you stop trying to outdo me in presents? It's getting tiring."

James laughs properly this time. "Not my intention. I just want to give you everything that I can." He shifts underneath her, his arms circling around her stomach to pull her back closer to his front. "For a moment, I thought that I wouldn't get the chance to give them to you. That they'd be mine to keep."

"Couldn't let that happen," she smiles tightly. "I have to outdo you for Christmas this time."

"Honestly, I'm feeling the heat of the competition against Sirius. He's knitting you sharks. Sharks, Cressida. How am I supposed to beat that?!"

Cressida closes the lid to the chest and locking the latches as she laughs, still scared to break them. "Don't forget the socks. I have ones with triceratops on them."

"If he makes you a crocodile, I'm done for." James throws his hands out to the side before slapping them gently against her thighs. Cressida's head is tilted towards the roof, resting in the curve of his neck to shoulder. "Sirius Black, the serial knitter. Why don't I get knitted gifts?"

"Maybe cause I'm his favourite," she goads, her forehead pressing against his cheek.

"Yeah, it ain't much competition. Princess vs… I think a bag of dicks was the last thing he called me," he drawls in a perturbed tone. "I've never heard that one before."

She smiles to his neck. "He got it from me. I heard it on tv once. And trust me, if you gave Sirius the who would you rather save situation, he would be the one to figure out a way to save us all. He might not succeed, but he would try."

"No," James shakes his head. "He would save you." Cressida lifts her head, mouth already parted with an argument forming, but James' face is cloaked in complete seriousness. "We've talked about it, actually. One night when we were talking about the war and everything going on." His voice drifts as his eyes do. "I asked him to make sure that you were the first priority if something were to ever happen. He agreed."

"I don't agree with that one bit," growls Cressida. Her head shakes adamantly. "No. absolutely not." She shifts around in his lap, bracing a knee on either side of him. Her hands grip at his shoulders. "There is no prioritising between any of us. It's not a scenario that any of us should have to answer let alone go through. And if we ever get to that point, then… that'll be a decision made on the circumstances."

His lips rise into a smile, but it's sad and soft. "You can't tell me not to prioritise you."

Cressida sighs, sinking her weight lower, glancing over her shoulder at the chest. Her own sad smile grows. "Why are you so perfect?" At her quiet serious question, he lapses into loud laughter, bouncing her slightly as his whole body moves with the sound. "I'm not kidding, James. You just… do everything right. I don't understand how you do it."

"Cressida," he grins, his tone sounding quite alike someone talking to a child. "Princess. Despite how much I love you telling me that, and it's taken me years to admit it, but I've finally come to realise that I am not, in fact, perfect. And I think you of all people know that. I have quite the list of names you've called me that aren't exactly positive."

Cressida twists her lips. "Did you make sure to take off prick?"

James nods with a broad, crooked smile. "I did. Leaves me with about forty-nine more. Selfish being the one that really hurt if you're wondering. Douche bag was a close second, but I think you retracted that one."

"We did. And I've only called you selfish one time and that was because you ate all those chocolate chip cookies and I got none," she huffs, shoving her finger into his chest. "They were really good, and I went back to my room and cried when I saw the empty plates."

"See, I'm not perfect."

"No, because after you realised, you made a whole new batch and wouldn't let anybody else touch them until I ate all I wanted." Her hands smooth over his neck, rising to either side of his face, taking a moment to breathe in all his features. "You have so much in life, but you always share it with everybody. People don't realise that. They just think you're a cocky prat."

His nose twitches up. "Doesn't matter what they think. I was a prat. Still am some days. But I am trying to make up for that."

Cressida smiles softly, pushing her hands through to his hair, staying close to the scalp. James breathes a relaxed sigh and soaking in the reaction, she continues, now and then, tightening the space between her fingers to lightly tug on his hair. His own hands run up her sides, then back down to her knees, leaving a trail of burning tingles before finally settling on her hips, his fingers splaying across her back jean pockets.

"Don't do it," he growls.

Cressida tilts her head. "Don't do what?" The hair thing? He told her he loves it.

"The impression of Minnie." His eyes are closed, head tilting forward until it presses into the middle of her chest. "It really ruins things."

Her chuckle is soft as his head moves with each spasm of her lungs. "Wasn't planning on it." She breathes deeply to push herself closer, tugging on his hair at the same time. She feels his response underneath her, one of his arms slipping around her lower back, the other moving to her thigh, squeezing near the junction of her hip and leg. He lifts his head from her chest, finding no other resting spot but peppers the side of her neck in what first start off as very light dustings of his lips. But each one becomes firmer and eventually, he opens his mouth and uses his tongue over her skin.

She makes no sound, but her stomach tightens and the muscles in her thighs tense, only encouraging him to keep going. He chooses one spot and sticks to it. The sensation in her lower stomach grows until she mutters out a fervent, "James."

He draws away from her neck, pressing them to her lips for a second. "Now that's what I do want to hear." His hands slide back to her hips, before tapping her backside lightly. "Up." Cressida obeyingly stands, but barely for a second before his arms encircle just above each of her knees, sweeping her feet from the floor. There is a moment where she is suspended in the air, falling backwards, but her spine lands on the softness of his mattress that she forgot was behind her. The roof disappears, James leaning over her, bracing his forearms along either side of her head.

He smiles down at her, beaming with victory.

"Apologies!" The door slams open with a bang. "Just forgot my-whoa." Cressida tilts her head back as far as she can, eyes set into a deathly glare at Sirius, who obviously has just hastily stopped from a march to a swaying pace. His black eyes dart subtly between her and James – who she can feel the heat of anger radiating off him. Sirius' lips draw into a sly smirk, his line of action forgotten as he half-turns to lean up against Remus' bedpost. "I'm sorry. Continue." He folds his arms comfortably.

Cressida suits herself to simply rolling her eyes, knowing that her and James' privateness is long gone. James reaches for his wand, swishing it in the air from the right side of her head to the left. A pillow flies over them, smacking right into Sirius' face. He cries out in pain, head knocking against the post. Forgetting her, James stands back up, picking the pillow up off the floor and starts beating Sirius with it the simple Muggle way.

Cressida sits up, watching the two boys wrestle each other. "I'm going to go see Remus and Pete," she announces, but she's left unheard. With a single nod, she sighs, pushing herself back up. "Alright then."

Boys. Brothers.

Despite begin so rudely interrupted, she leaves with a smile on her cheeks which only widens upon hearing James' grunt of pain. True to her word, she heads straight down to the Common Room, finding the pair near the alcove. "You can go upstairs if you want," she says.

"I'm not going to see James' dick?" Remus inquires, raising a probing brow.

Cressida pushes her lips out in mocking thought. "Depends how frisky he and Sirius are going to get in their pillow fighting. I've always seen some heated tension between the two. Sirius seems rather eager for that to happen as well." Her lips widen in a half-smirk, half-grin as Peter and Remus shrivel their noses with perturbed expressions. "How are you both feeling, so close to our last day?"

Remus is the first to answer, his head moving back and forward in a slow nod-like action. "It's… scary. I'm scared. Don't know what I'm going to do. Hogwarts is the first place I really felt like I could belong." His voice is coated in bittersweetness.

"I'm sure you'll still feel like that," Cressida assures. "We might not see each other every day, but we'll still be there."

"Yeah," Peter agrees. "It's not like we get obliviated on our way out."

Remus hums a breath of laughter, the right corner of his mouth lifting. Cressida reaches out to him, laying a hand on his arm. "Don't feel you can't ever reach out to us. And if when we reach out to you, take the hand, alright?"

"I don't like charity," he murmurs as though ashamed of what James has offered him.

"Neither do I," she confides. "But it's friendship, not charity."