Chapter 1: Adorable

"I'm glad to hear that you've gained confidence in your friends."

Dr Kenway scribbles a note on his pad which rests on his neatly folded knee. Cressida shifts on the lounge, legs crossed underneath her as though she is sitting on the ground. "I never didn't trust them," she disputes. "I didn't want them to bear more than they needed to. Some of them have shit lives as well."

"Yet from what you've told me, it was James that you found it hard to open up to, despite being in what is the steadiest situation. On paper, at least." Kenway interlocks his fingers in front of his chest, staring at her with a knowing smile. "And you're in a relationship with this man. Would it not make sense to have him as your first contact?"

Cressida bites her cheek, trying to ignore the obnoxious ticking of the large clock hanging from his wall. At every hour, it dings.

"I would love for you to bring him to our next session, if you are both up for that."

"He doesn't know I come here." Kenway tightens his lip, sending her a disapproving look. "I don't want him to think I'm crazy," she adds almost breathlessly in defence.

"And do you think Mr Lupin is crazy?" he questions.

Cressida scoffs in bafflement. "No, of course he isn't-oh. I see what you did there." She clicks her fingers, pointing at him. "Countering me with my own logic to show me how stupid it is. I'll remember that one. And I don't think I'm crazy, but James comes from a pureblood line! He doesn't even know what a therapist is!"

"So this would be the perfect opportunity for you to talk to him about it."

Her lips press together tightly, cursing the wits of therapists. The stupid clock dings, alerting them both that her hour here is over. She hands him the payment that comes from her Muggle stash of money. It will run out sooner or later, but this is the only thing she spends it on.

He follows her to the door, leaning against its frame. "Cressida," he calls as she starts to walk down the corridor. "How are you feeling? About the war." The question comes off differently than something in his session. More with personal than professional interest.

Cressida smiles bittersweetly, shrugging one shoulder. "What is there to feel about the war other than anger and remorse and perhaps a little bit of hope?"

"No, of course," he sighs. "I understand that you're Muggle-born and I hope that you're somewhere safe."

Cressida looks off to the side, thinking about her home in the small apartment in London. "I'm safe," she concludes. "I'm almost never alone. And I have a guard dog."

Kenway pinches his brows, somewhat amused yet concerned at her answer. "I'm not sure a guard dog is going to stand much of a threat against Death Eaters."

Her smile grows into a soft chuckle. "He bites pretty hard."

Taking her words for more than their simplest meaning, the salt-and-pepper haired man nods. "Be safe and be smart."

Cressida tips her head to the side as she begins striding backwards. "Not really the Gryffindor way," she laughs. Kenway only sighs in resignment, but she watches him chuckle to himself, retreating back into his office. She had already stopped by Remus' home on her way here, so just before she reaches the door leading her to the streets of urban England, with a sudden 'pop', she disappears.

Her ears fill with the sounds of tires on tarmac and the ring of a bicycle bell. Apparating into the alleyway near her home building, her wand stays close to her palm, checking down both ends of the lane. She can't apparate straight into the house, having a grand set of wards set up around the place.

Finding no threat other than potentially being run over by young boys on bicycles when she steps out of the alley, Cressida tucks her wand away, striding north. She passes by Sirius' motorcycle, which has a disillusionment charm placed on it as well as anti-theft spells. Only a very keen Muggle eye would pick it up, and an expert charmer to get it free.

Pulling the hood of her jacket over her head, Cressida turns left into the street. Her breath catches as one of the children riding a bike heads straight towards her. They both yelp, his handlebars turning sharply and Cressida jumping to the side. It narrowly misses her and the young boy manages to catch the ground with his foot before he falls. "Be careful kid-hey." Her neck draws longer, seeing familiar features. "Bastian?"

Bastian Jacobs stares at her owlishly for a moment. "Cressida?" he spits out. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here," she answers with an amused smile. "You live around here too?"

Bastian nods, pointing across the street towards a large dark-red brick house with white painted windowsills. "Yeah, just over there. How come I've never seen you around here before?"

"Just moved here properly at the beginning of Summer. I live in that one over there." She points to her apartment complex. "Number 23 if you ever want to come visit. But I'll warn you that I live with Sirius." At his hesitant expression, she laughs freely. "He likes you, Jacobs."

"I'm not so sure about that," he chuckles nervously, glancing at the building. "But it's nice to live around other wizards. My only friends here are Muggles." He chucks a finger over his shoulder, gesturing to a group of three boys of the same age, riding in circles on the streets. "They're fun, but I can't go to Diagon Alley with them and my mother doesn't enjoy going either."

Cressida watches the three other boys while her head works. "I can go with you if you would like. I'm not available all the time and I travel a fair bit but if you give me a heads up, I'm sure I can make something work."

"I wouldn't want to be trouble," he murmurs, but a smile grows on his cheeks as he scrunches his nose. "But that would be nice. Thank you."

"No worries kid. I'll see you around, yeah?"

He nods, settling back in his seat and rides off to join his friends. Cressida continues on her way to the apartment, flinging the hood off once she steps inside the security door. The key is cold against her palm but soon warms to her temperature and the door opens with a satisfying click.

It's clear to see that Sirius has taken the day off doing anything as a few dishes still sit along the kitchen bench. His head pokes over the lounge, the television that he brought playing some sort of news show.

Dumping her small shoulder bag on the bench, she wanders up behind the lounge, crossing her arms and bracing them along the back of it to Sirius' right. In his lap is a Chinese takeaway box with a few pieces of chicken. "Afternoon," she greets cheekily since he hadn't awoken even by late morning when she first left.

"Afternoon," he chuckles, holding the box up to her. Perking a brow, she digs in and takes a piece of chicken for herself. "How'd it go today?"

"I feel like we go in circles sometimes," she answers, climbing over the back of the lounge to join him on the cushioned seat. "He keeps telling me things I know I need to do – and I'm going to – but it never feels like the right time."

"James?" he questions.

Cressida nods, questioning the integrity of the chicken piece but ultimately eating it anyway. "It's not like I'm hiding huge secrets or anything and he knows the gist of things. I just don't feel like they're things I have to tell him."

"You're hiding from him that you're seeing a Muggle professional therapist and suffering from numerous things." Cressida purses her lips staring at her greasy fingertips. "I'd be right-down pissed if you kept that from me."

"And I'm going to tell him!" she cries. "Fuck, this is what caused us issues in the first place. It's either going to come out from you spilling something and he's going to be pissed that I haven't told him, or I will tell him and he'll be annoyed that I didn't tell him earlier."

"Wouldn't you much rather it be the second?" Sirius pesters. "He'll get over being annoyed in a few hours."

Their conversation dies down there, both their attentions tuning into the television. The picture is crackling and sometimes a little fuzzy, but Sirius barely knows how to work the thing and Cressida barely watches it. Just as the anchor tries to deliver the report on England's latest cricket match, it is interrupted by a breaking news image.

"A family found dead-"

Sirius pushes off the lounge with a huff, kneeling in front of the boxed device. He presses the channel button, which flicks to another news channel that is telling the same story. Again. Again. This time, it's some children's show with horridly coloured little puppet creatures. Then the screen turns black. "We'll hear enough of that at the meeting tomorrow."

The meeting. To both her pleasure and her growing concern, all five of them have joined to Order. Cressida is glad that they have been given the opportunity to fight, since she knows that it would kill them to only be able to stand back. It's not in their natures, but it is a war, and she wishes nobody had to fight. Least of all her friends. And James.

"Speaking of, I'll be going off with Moody after that for a few days."

Sirius narrows his eyes in quiet displeasure. "Where to?" Cressida only gives him a knowing look. "Can't tell me," he answers himself. "Can you tell me what you're doing, at least?"

"Looking for something," she says. Sirius rolls his eyes. It's the same answer she always gives him. In truth, she's not entirely sure what they're looking for, but Dumbledore is sending them on goose-chases. Alastor Moody is there to fight off the physical threats of Death Eaters and she is there to fight their way through enchantments and barriers. All they know is that they're looking for a stone. "Look, I don't even really know."

Sirius only sighs, staring at her with remorseful eyes. She feels the same whenever he goes away for days at a time. But for the most part, she is trusted enough with the information. Especially being Moody's right-hand woman. It's Dumbledore that doesn't tell them things, the secret-keeping old crook.

He leaves the living room, marching into his bedroom and Cressida sighs, figuring that her answer has peeved him off once more. But he returns in a matter of moments with two small boxes in hand.

"I bought these but then I thought it might seem like I have attachment issues or something," he chuckles awkwardly. "But I think they might give us a sense of ease. You have your journal with James and I have the mirror, but we don't have anything for us."

"Are you going to hear my thoughts or something?" she teases.

Sirius makes a deliberating expression as his grin grows and he hands her one of the boxes. Cressida takes it, lifting the lid. Inside is a simple silver chained necklace. On the end is a medium sizes pendant. It looks like a simple opaque blue gemstone, encapsulated by a metal binding.

"Look," Sirius instructs, holding his own one open. He presses the pad of his thumb over his twin stone and Cressida looks to her own. From the middle, the blue begins to turn a bright shade of fiery orange. Entranced, she picks up the stone, but instead of the coolness of a rock, the stone is warm against her skin like it has been held near a fire. "We can't speak or anything with it, but I'll know whenever you touch yours and you'll know when I touch mine. It's a bit frilly, I know but…"

"It's thoughtful and smart," she finishes for him. "I'll use it every day. Thank you." And if it doesn't glow back, then something is wrong. "Bastian Jacobs lives just across the road by the way. I told him to come over if he ever felt like it."

"Ah, I love that little chap."

"He's still scared of you."

Sirius holds his arms out. "What's there to be scared about."

Cressida raises her brows, looking up and down her friend. Six foot two, with a lean, muscled frame and overly wide Beater's shoulders. Dark hair brushing his shoulders and contouring his already sharp jawline and black eyes, and his wardrobe consisting of many leather jackets not to mention his previous duelling reputation and spitfire temper. "Nothing," she grins. "You're adorable."

Sirius throws his shoulders to his ears. "I know!"