Chapter 14: Reflection
Cressida stands in front of the tall arched window, arms hanging by her sides and her shoulders slouched. The ghostly reflection melds into the stormy sky of London. A thunderstorm is on its way.
In all the times she has struggled, in all the times that she has felt useless and distant, in all the times that she felt hurt, never has Cressida truly hated herself. Yet that moment has come.
She loves what she has in this world beyond belief. Her friends are so pure and beautiful and deserve every ounce of goodness that comes their way. But what good is she bringing them? When every attempt she makes to preserve and protect ends up with someone being hurt. And too often that person is James.
Why did he have to choose her? Why did he have to requite her love for him? She could have dealt with loving him from afar if it meant that he was happy; if it meant that she didn't have the ability to hurt him like she did last night.
The only thing she's ever been good at is Charms. Spells. Cressida hasn't failed that yet. She found the damn Resurrection Stone; something believed a myth by most and lost by the rest. Her mind is filled with a plethora of spells, both Light and Dark. She is one of the most trusted members of the Order, sent on missions by Dumbledore himself (though her trust in him has wavered greatly).
That is what she needs to focus on. That is how she will make everything better. By ending this damn war, even by her own bare hands if she must.
Those thoughts of confidence don't eradicate the loathing she is emersed in, growing thicker and deeper each second that she stares at the window. Snow begins to fall against the glass panel. The storm is starting.
The metal rattling of the front door breaks her from the spell. Cressida turns away from the window with a short sigh, part of her grateful as she was vividly imagining breaking the window. Sirius enters the apartment, his hair frizzing around his head like a halo, the skin under his eyes blotchy and dark. "You look like shit."
Sirius only exhales loudly, kicking off his shoes. "You are here," he says to himself. "Peter said you just disappeared."
Shrugging, she leans against the counter. "Needed a shower more than I needed breakfast." Sirius doesn't respond, meandering towards the same counter. He leans over, burying his head within his arms. "You alright?"
He lifts his head again as though finding no comfort in the position. "My head," he croaks. Cressida hums sympathetically, striding past him to the sink. Grabbing a dry glass off the drying rack, she fills it then hands it to him.
Slowly is fingers spider around the glass, lifting to his lips. She strokes his back gently as he takes tiny sips, wincing every few seconds. "I'll go get us something decent to eat. How about we have a movie day? Perfect weather for it."
"Sounds good. Just nothing…big, please."
Cressida holds her laugh but agrees, defining his definition of big as anything that would make his headache worse. A quiet, simple movie. She doubts he'll even watch it properly.
She leaves him on the couch, the glass refilled with water and grabs her purse. At the supermarket, Cressida leaves the trollies, settling for a small basket and fills it with popcorn kernels, salted nuts, some sort of pain tablets that are on sale and milk. The inside of the supermarket is eerie; bright lights and white floors, yet once glance outside the window and you'll find dark clouds and visible gusts of winds.
There's almost nobody except for the employees – most people are probably just like Sirius considering it is New Year's Day. So she doesn't miss the strange-looking man at the end of the aisle.
Cressida half turns, pointing her eyes towards the selection of salsas that neither her nor Sirius like. Her brown eyes strain against the brim of her sockets, watching the man who seems to teleport to her side. "Go away."
"You're finally listening to what I've been trying to tell you your entire life." The voice shakes her teeth, her stomach twisting around itself. His white singlet is stained, covered only by a loose flannel that has the pocket ripped off. "You finally realised what a fucking pain in the arse you are to 'ave around."
"And I thought someone finally killed you." Cressida spins on her heels, chin raised to look at her father in the eyes. "You don't get to haunt me." Knowing there is nothing stopping her but her own mind, she strides forward, the body of her deceased father evaporating like smoke as she passes through it.
"Can we please have assistance on aisle five. I repeat; assistance on aisle five."
Cressida heaves the basket closer to her, never once looking back. She knows he will still be standing there, watching her. With a plastic bag hanging from her elbow, she quickly ducks into the movie rental shop, picking out something relatively easy to watch, not even properly reading the blurb on the back.
Sirius is still lying on the couch when she returns so she leaves him there for a while, heating the popcorn kernels and putting away the milk. The sensation of her father's eyes staring down at her never quite leaves.
"I just want to be a burrito."
Cressida perks up at Sirius' rather odd declaration. Pouring the cooked popcorn into a large bowl, she wanders around to the couch. Sirius has pulled the rug over himself, curled up with his head the only thing left uncovered. "Can I join your burrito?"
As Sirius unravels himself, she places the VHS inside the player, putting the tv to the right switch and settles herself inside his blanket. The material is thick and warm, encasing her immediately in its warmth. The bowl sits on her lap, hidden by it as well, but there is enough space around their necks for their arms to poke through to feed themselves.
"Why'd you leave so early?" Sirius mumbles as the unskippable ads play through. "You didn't even tell anybody you left." Cressida fills her mouth with popcorn, evading an answer for a few extra moments.
Inhaling unhurriedly, she answers. "James was upset last night. I didn't realise why until this morning. I thought it was best if I left since it was because of me."
Sirius turns his head to her. "James was wondering where the hell you went. He was surprised that you left." Cressida stares at the tv screen, ignoring the icky sensation creeping along her skin, begging her mind to scrub it off until she is left raw and naked. "He was pretty upset that you did," Sirius adds pointedly. "Thinks you're upset at him."
She would like to believe that it is because of how hard that she bites the inside her lip that her eyes let a tear escape. "Can even do that right, can I?" she whispers.
"What are you talking about?"
Shaking her head, she leans forward, escaping the warmth of the blanket. Her elbows drive into her knees, fingers lacing behind her head.
I hate myself.
I hate myself.
I hate myself.
She hates everything she's become.
And she is now going to spend every moment for the rest of her life repaying her friends for the pain she causes. Lifting her head, she finds Sirius now sitting up next to her. He opens his arm, the blanket lifting with it in invitation. Cressida dives right back in, her arms latching around his neck and he falls against the back of the lounge with an 'oomph'. Her heart lurches, remembering his horrid headache, but he makes no noise of pain. He doesn't question her, doesn't make her do or say anything to explain. He always knows what she needs.
James doesn't deserve her. He really doesn't. He deserves so much better.
Thunder strikes behind her, deafening the noise of the television which has just started to play the beginning of the film. She can't even recall what it is called.
Cressida curls her head onto his shoulder, pinching her lip with her nails.
Cressida listens to the movie, the storm becoming a soft ambience. She blindly brushes the back of her fingers over the side of his face, guiding his longer hair over his ear. "I'm thinking about cutting it," he murmurs. "But I know you like it long. You like playing with it."
"I thought you hated it."
Sirius breathes a silent chuckle, his fingers drumming along her spine. "I hate when you do it in front of other people."
"I like it long," she agrees. "But I like it long because that's how you've always have it. Besides, I hardly think you're one to seek permission or advice before doing something." He contemplates her analysis with a crooked smile.
She wouldn't have to be a burden to Sirius. Cressida imagines it – taking down each Death Eater one by one, destroying everything in her way. She imagines ending it. Ending it all. Ending Voldemort and his reign of terror. Freeing Regulus from the choice he doesn't want to make. Saving families from the fate of her own. Giving people the freedom to look beyond the war and not feel like they have to marry now because it may be never if they do not. Giving James a good life-
"Cress?" Sirius whisper airily into her ear. "You're breathing hard." Cressida blinks, the world soaking back into place around her. Her chest moves painfully, pressing hard against his. "Are you having a panic attack?"
Cressida stares at the kitchen behind the lounge for another second. "N-no."
They stay like that until the end of the movie, her eyes never once catching a glimpse of the film itself, but she listens the whole way through. She knows he tried to ignore his headache for her sake, but by the end of the film he finally asks her if they have anything for the pain. She nods and tells him that she left something on the counter. He murmurs something about Muggle medicine not being the same but takes it anyways.
"I'm going to go have a nap. You can come in if you want company, but it's lights off and no talking."
"It's alright," she smiles. He leans over the back of the lounge, his face pulled in a constant wince. "I'll wake you up for dinner." Sirius bends down further, kissing her forehead then retreats to his room, holding his head.
Cressida sits for approximately five more minutes. The only sound she can hear is the television and the storm outside. And in one blink, she teleports in front of the window, her fingers tracing over the frost, her mind debating how thick it is and how much force it would need for her to break it. They live on the fifth floor. The fall would break her neck.