Chapter 2: Mysteries Grow

Cressida saunters around the Potter manor kitchen, withdrawing a sharp knife from the stand. Humming the herself, she cuts the two bananas into small circles, scraping them into the two bowls with the other slices of fruit.

"Cressida," Fleamont greets, heading straight to the kettle. "You're here quite early."

"Sirius decided to wake me up with obnoxiously loud music," she smiles sarcastically, her ears drumming painfully in the memory of the KISS song. "I think he enchanted his record player to shake the walls of our entire building with how loud it is. How has your week been?"

The older man sighs. "Quiet. Not much business work to do when most people are getting scared to leave their homes. Especially anybody of high-profile or Muggle-born status."

"Understandable," she murmurs to herself. James is still sleeping, since she had closed his curtains as soon as she arrived so he would sleep more before the meeting. "I haven't told James yet, but I'll be away for a couple of days with Alastor Moody."

The end of Summer is already coming, but for once, there is no time restraint of their journey back to Hogwarts. This type of life goes on. "You will be safe, won't you?" Fleamont presses, worry for not only her, but his son as well growing.

"Everybody tells me that like I don't already intend to come home alive," she notes off-handed. "I much prefer coming back to my own bed than lying in a ditch forever. War or no war."

Fleamont passes her with the boiled kettle in hand. "Good to hear."

Rolling her eyes playfully, Cressida picks up the two bowls and forks, shutting the draw with her hip and makes her way up to James' bedroom. Balancing the bowls in one arm, she pushes the dark-wood door open. For once, he hasn't awoken and opened the curtains that she closed. Placing the bowls on his nightstand, she pushes the hanging material back open wide, smiling as streams of pure sunlight bathe her and the bedroom.

"I thought I was coming to your place."

Spinning on her heels, she grins to a sleepy James who is flopping his hand around for his glasses. "Sirius is currently dancing in front of the open windows with nothing but his boxers on to horrible Muggle music and I'm pretty sure I saw a slip of paper from our neighbours under the door likely complaining about the noise as I left."

James bows his head in a single nod. "This is much preferable," he concludes. With a swiftly rising smirk, he opens his arms to her. She takes two steps before collapsing onto his bed and falling into his arms. They tangle together, wrapping their legs and arms around each other. "I want to wake up to this every day."

"I'm not sure I'll have the motivation to wake up earlier than you every day and make you breakfast," she goads, knowing truly that, that is not what he means. But she wants him to tell her.

"I hope you don't," he smiles, running a hand up and down the length of her thigh. "I enjoy cooking, and breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Which is why I leave the curtains open, you minx." Cressida grins innocently, bunching the back of his shirt between her fingers and palm. With more sincerity and softness, he whispers, "I want to wake up to you."

"I want to wake up to you too."

James traces his other hand over her back, her head resting on its arm. "Then why don't you?" he murmurs, almost as though he didn't want her to hear the question. She hadn't realised it had been upsetting him so much.

Cressida tightens her grip on his shirt, tensing the muscles in her leg that he has hooked over his hip to strengthen their embrace. "Because as much as Sirius thinks that he's the caretaker and that I'm living with him so he can keep an eye on me, it goes the other way as well," she admits. "I think he needs somebody with him. He doesn't do well on his own and I want to be there with him. He has always been with his family or this one. I think he needs time to adjust to being alone for once."

James takes her answer without any further points of argument. He agrees with her assessment, she can tell, but he still wants what he wants. And as much as she wants it to, a good part of her is telling her to stay with Sirius for just a few years. Just to make sure that he feels like he has somebody to come to without needing to run.

They eat their breakfast in peace and sunlight, and Cressida is given the pleasure of watching James get dressed. James smirks at her. "That's the same look Sirius gave me every morning."

"Of course he did," she laughs, throwing her head back. "I don't blame him."

This time, she rises a small blush onto his cheeks. Securing his belt, he crawls towards her from the end of his bed, bridging over the top of her to take her into a kiss. His eyes trail all over her face and eventually down to her chest when his head cocks to the side. "What's this?" he questions, resting his weight on top of her to pick up the new necklace.

"Watch," she answers, taking it from him and pressing her thumb over the gem. She releases, and nothing happens at first, but then the blue stone turns fiery-orange. "That's Sirius."

James stares down at the jewel for a long time. "He loves you," he breathes. Cressida hums softly. "We should get going. We'll Floo-powder in."

"Thank Merlin, cause I don't want to walk all the way back into town to apparate."

Xx

The Floo-powder channel is only open for a brief time before they it shut once again. The green flames around her simmer away, revealing a dusty homestead in the middle of butt-fucking-nowhere.

A safehouse that belongs to Alastor Moody. It isn't his home (thankfully, because it is extremely unkempt at times), but a simple run-down home that he bought for the use of the Order.

The inside is mostly dark from poorly positioned windows and the furniture is mediocre. Outside is nothing but fields of grass and Cressida is pretty sure that there is a landfill somewhere nearby from an occasional rotten scent.

Everybody in the Order is a Secret Keeper of its location, meaning unless they ever have a mole inside their ranks, their enemies would never find it. But having a traitor isn't a completely unlikely circumstance.

Cressida waves to the Prewett twins who are drinking coffee near the kitchen, talking to a man Cressida only knows by name. The twins have been involving themselves in a lot of the fighting work, tracking down Death Eaters whilst Moody is on other missions.

Wandering through the house, she hears James arrive behind her. She nods to Alastor as he strides past her, checking over who is and who isn't here yet. Marlene and Lily are here as well, talking with Alice Fortescue, who has also recently joined the Order. Or, Alice Longbottom now, as her newly wedded husband stands just off into another hallway, talking with a familiar, dark-skinned man. "Elias?"

Elias turns with a beaming smile, waving to her. He says something to Frank who nods in farewell before marching towards her.

"I thought you were still in Romania," she laughs, hugging him.

"Trail went dead," he answers. "Thought I should get back in time to say hello to you before you go off for a couple of days." Of course he's in the loop. Though nobody has specific titles except the few properly trained Aurors that are here, they've all fallen into some sort of role. For most of them, that's the soldier. For Elias, it is a spy. And her role has begun to tie closer to his. His dark chocolate eyes scan the room, but they have generous space around them. "I hear you're going to Glasgow," he notes under his breath.

Cressida nods subtly. "Yeah," she breathes in the same volume. "Apparently he used to visit someone up there back when he was in Hogwarts." It wasn't that she didn't trust anybody else here with that information, but Elias has unspoken clearance and is above the need-to-know basis. "I don't know what I'm supposed to find."

"That's what I'm trying to find out," Elias says, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wood-panel wall. Cressida checks over her shoulder, but there are still no ears close by. "Dumbledore is being all cryptic, sending me here and there without telling me much. When you told me about the stone, I began investigating on the side. Haven't found anything significant yet, but maybe it's Nicholas Flamel's stone?"

"The Philosopher's Stone?"

Elias nods, sucking his lips to his teeth. "It's possible. But I thought that Flamel still held possession of it which is why it probably isn't. What other stone holds enough power that they want you to search after?"

"Maybe I should just pick up a pebble off the streets," she mocks, stepping backwards as Moody calls for the meeting to start. "Throw it Death Eater heads'." Cressida smiles, waving quietly to Remus and Peter who take their seats on James and Sirius' left. They all sit around an oversized table, everybody eyeing off everybody else. Some with confidence, others with wary.

Kingsley Shacklebolt is one of the oldest members—in terms of being a part of the Order, not age – and he sits up near Moody, donned in dark purple robes. Cressida has taken a liking to him, despite their very few interactions.

"Well I start off by saying that there was an unpredicted event over last night that I'm sure some of you have heard of," Moody grumbles, tossing a paper onto the table. Only the ones closest bother to look. "The McMullen family. Mostly half-blooded, all slaughtered during the night."

"What?"

Cressida's stomach lurches.

Moody eyes her for a moment before continuing, "From what we knew, they had no reason to be targeted. Half-bloods. Never spoke out against the Dark Lord's reign. They were smart and kept to themselves." There's a hint of remorse within his voice, but the old Auror has been in the business too long to spend emotions on deaths. "What's interesting, is that their son, Arthur McMullen lived long enough to alert us that he was apparently under the imperious curse for some time."

"Is he alive?" Cressida demands. Last she heard of the boy; he was sent to St Mungo's. James' arm is settled over the back of her chair, his thumb and forefinger rubbing gently on the back of her neck.

"McMullen was a bastard," Sirius growls. "And an idiot. Probably got himself into that situation."

"What did he do under the imperious curse?" Fabian questions, redirecting the conversation.

And as though the air in the room wasn't thick enough already, Moody answers something that sends shivers down all their spines. "Killed his family. Then himself." There's a collection of long breathes, people glancing left and right, wondering if that could be any of them one day. Cressida slumps, her focus beginning to tune out. "We believe it was the work Evan Rosier, who we are aware was using the Unforgivable curses on school grounds."

Cressida stays for the rest of the meeting with her fist to her mouth, drowning out all their voices, even James'. After the meeting is adjourned, James and Sirius stay around the table, circling around her seated position. "What if he was under the curse at school?" She can't help but wonder.

"Don't think about it," is Sirius' advice. He rubs a hand up and down her arm. "No point in overthinking it."

"We should have told Dumbledore," she says to James. "About Rosier using the cruciatus curse. I didn't think about how he would use it on other students." Did he poison her under the spell? Was it a Slytherin plan and not just stupid Arthur trying to get into the Marauder's good books? Or maybe it is the two at once. Or not at all. Merlin, she really doesn't know anymore.

James shakes his head, taking her hands into his. "It's not your fault."

"It might be," she cries quietly. "We'll never know cause Arthur's dead."

"It's not your fault," James repeats. "Because I told Dumbledore." Her silence sends him into a slumped state, much like her own. "I told Dumbledore what Rosier did to you and he promised to do what he could."

"Obviously it wasn't fucking enough," Sirius spits. James gives him a scolding look, telling him to be quiet.

Cressida twists her neck in each direction. "I can't think about this anymore. I forgot to tell you that I'm leaving for a few days."

James leans back against the back of his chair. "When? Where?"

"Today. I can't tell you where." His lips part, eyes fluttering around as Sirius takes his leave. Cressida leans forward to him, their positions switching. "Hey, it's not anywhere dangerous."

"Yes, because being safe is in the job description of Curse-Breaker," he mutters in a low growl. "Take your journal, won't you?"

"I'll have the journal, necklace and Alastor Moody, the best Auror ever to live," she smiles confidently. "I'll be fine. And you'll know if I'm not."

"How am I supposed to help you if you're not, if I don't know where you are?"

Cressida sighs, knowing that he has reasonable logic. She plays with his fingers, running over the newly placed silver band on his middle finger. It has the Potter emblem engraved on it. From father to son. "If something is truly wrong, then I'm sure Dumbledore will know, but…" she trails off, wondering if she should leave it there or not. "Ask Elias."

James glances over at the terracotta skinned man. "Elias? He knows?"

"It's his job to know," she draws out, hoping he isn't offended. "I'm not not telling you because I can't trust you." Cressida grabs his face, tearing it away from his strong glare. "I'm not telling you so you don't hold information that's dangerous and you don't need. For my protection, and yours. If someone got a hold of you and forced you to drink Veritaserum or worse, tortured you, and you knew where I was-."

"And Griffiths is the exception?" he whispers, an obvious expression of disappointment in his hazel eyes.

"Elias has proven to be one of the few people immune to the effects," she explains, stroking her thumbs across his cheeks to keep his attention to her. "So yes, he's an exception. And that immunity is why he's able to do what he does." Along with being a fine duellist and one of the most trusted members of the Order. "Don't be jealous."

"I'm not," he swiftly defends, setting his eyes back on her. Cressida's lips rise in a small smile. "I'm not."

Cressida leans forward, kissing his cheek. "I should say goodbye to a few people." James stays right by her side the entire time, either holding her hand, or hooking his finger through the belt around her jeans.

"I'm sorry I won't be here this month," she says to Remus. "But I'll howl from wherever I am and hope that you can hear me."

"Please don't ever how on a full moon," he laughs, though she knows his warning is serious. "It won't just attract me." Cressida nods, drawing him into a brief hug.

"I'll see you later Pete," she waves to the more reserved boy. Peter nods, holding his arms close to his stomach. Turning to Sirius, she nods over her shoulder towards James. "Maybe you two should have a sleepover while I'm not here. I'm sure you're missing having a boy's night without me there."

"Yeah," Sirius grins, knocking James' elbow. "I miss snuggling up to you naked."

James presses his lips together, looking at Cressida as he answers, "Please don't go."