Chapter 21: No. 12
Cressida panics. And panics for a while. Is she in over her head? Merlin what is supposed to do? At least she has some information that she can pass onto Alastor. Inferi – as far as Cressida is aware, they haven't fought any inferi which means that they are probably being used for something the Ministry and Order aren't yet aware of.
Her job now is to find out as much as she can, and preferably not from Voldemort himself. Every time that she is near him, she risks gaining his interest and a peek into her mind. Once that happens, she is done for. Fortunately, Moody gave her a run down that she wouldn't often be that close as she would for her first meeting. She will, however, be working closely with Death Eaters close to her rank. Though she isn't yet aware of who they are.
A problem that she hoped to solve still lingers too. Summoning. The Dark Mark on her arm does not have any magical properties. So while she sits in her temporary home, now as Cressida but with a vial of Polyjuice in her pocket, she could be called for at any moment and she would not feel it. Alastor left it has something for her to figure out.
For a while she mopes about not bringing her journal in the end, knowing that she could have kept it in the trunk and nobody would have known about it. But that would require James being aware that she is with Death Eaters and not the Snatchers as he had been told.
With all these thoughts banging around in her head, the solution that she inevitably comes to is Regulus. Regulus will be her saving grace – however much she snorts at the idea – even if he doesn't know it. He would be her intel and her shield.
With her wand tucked safely away inside her jacket, and a swig of Polyjuice down her throat, Cressida prepares herself for something she never thought would happen. She apparates to number 12 Grimmauld Place.
Well, never thought about, might be an overstatement. She had imagined herself breaking in and stealing Sirius away several times when he told them what would happen inside that house. But with Sirius now safe, it seems like an utterly insane idea to walk into the Black home.
It looks the same as any other house on the block. Borough of Islington, London. Less than half an hour from her own home. Cressida stripped from her Death Eater robes, choosing a simple black attire instead. Still gives off the impression of pure evil – but she won't get pulled up in the streets by Aurors because of it alone.
Her knuckles tap against the dark wood door, waiting patiently as nothing sounds from inside. Would Regulus even be here? Cressida waits for a little under thirty seconds before the door is opened by a frilly looking woman. Perhaps in her late forties with a high collared black blouse and black hair pulled into a bun at the top of her head. A black skirt matches the blouse, travelling all the way to the floor, leaving no skin uncovered but that of her hands and her face. "Yes?" she questions stiffly.
Cressida goes to smile as one would when they need to act pleasant and innocent; but that would not be the right character to play. "Mrs Black?" she guesses. Sirius father is dead, leaving Walburga and Regulus as the only occupants of the large family home. At her short nod, Cressida continues. "I'm Rowena Tether. I was wondering if Regulus was here. We are acquaintances through… work."
Walburga glances her over with a critical eye. There's a shift in her posture and face, the lines thinning. "Yes, he is. Would you like to come in?"
"I would."
Cressida steps over the threshold into Grimmauld place, a heaviness in the air settling on her shoulders. "He's upstairs in his room. At the end of the corridor." She thanks Walburga, following her directions up the staircase. As she runs her fingers across the railing, she imagines a young Sirius running down these stairs, a younger Regulus on his tail.
The upstairs rooms have just the same feeling as downstairs. There's a series of doors, each with its own plaques. She first reads Walburga and Orion's. Cressida wonders if they truly loved each other. And if they did, a small pang of remorse fills her. That would be one of the hardest things to go through.
Next is Sirius'. It shocks her a little to see the plaque still there, untouched. Peering around, making sure there is nobody to see her, she cracks open the door. It is just what she expected. Immodest posters of Muggle women still plastered on the walls from the charm keeping them there. There are books of astrology and school textbooks lain over a busy desk.
Cressida wanders in, wondering if there is anything here that Sirius regrets not taking with him. She sorts through his belongings, knowing he would not care if he did know. In the end, the only thing she can find is a sealed envelope. She doesn't open it, but her curiosity is drawn by the lack of addressment on the cover. Was he intending to send it or had he received it?
Knowing that she is risking more by staying inside, Cressida tucks the letter into her coat and moves back into the hallway, striding faster towards Regulus' room. The silver plaque doesn't state his full name. Instead, it has 'R.A.B' inscribe. She knocks on the door.
He opens it within seconds with a look of boredom but it quickly transforms into stone at the sight of her. "Are you serious?"
"No," she smiles. "I was under the impression Sirius was your brother. How do you not know what your brother looks like?"
Her words prompt a theatrical eye roll, and he slumps against the edge of his doorframe. "Let me rephrase. Are you seriously here at my home? What is wrong with you? How did you even know where I lived?"
"What? Like it's a secret," she laughs. "To answer your questions, I was looking for company. And I decided that I liked you." Cressida brushes past him into the bedroom, his shoulder folding against her body easily. Probably the shock
His expression darkens once he turns around. Cressida analyses the room. Quite similar to Sirius' if you take away all the Muggle aspects and Gryffindor memorabilia. "If you're looking for that sort of company. I'm not interested."
Cressida raises her brows while she deducts what he means by 'that'. Then she laughs. "Merlin's beard no. I already have someone to satisfy that need." She huffs in amusement to herself, imagining James' proud smirk that he would display if he heard her say that.
"Good," Regulus draws, stalking past her to his desk. "Because so do I."
"You do?" she spits out, barely withholding her grin. Regulus hadn't mentioned anything of the sort to her. Though that would be a very odd conversation to have.
Regulus glares at her over his shoulder as he sits at his desk chair. "Yes. Sort of."
"Do you mean sort of for them or sort of for you?" The reasonably indecent question earns her another sharp glare. "Fine." Cressida saunters towards his desk, spinning on her heels and leaning her backside against it. "I'm not looking for that sort of company. I'm just… not used to what I'm doing here. After the meeting I know I have some catching up to do. Like what are they using the Inferi for?"
Regulus pulls out a scrap piece of parchment and begins scrawling something onto it. "I'm really not interested in having a bloody apprentice or whatever. I'm not the person to ask. Severus might be a better option, but he can be blunter than me."
She near shivers at the idea of seeking help from Snape. "Can you at least tell me why you're refusing to help me? Do I stink?"
"Yes."
Cressida sneers with a mocking gesture. Maybe not wanting to help her is a good thing. Just not a good thing for her right now. It might be because he's hesitant to get close to anybody; just like he had told her in his letters. But she'll find a way for him to help her, just not in the direct way that would have been easiest. "I love your owl," she muses, smiling at the owl sitting on top of his cage. A dark, almost black with speckled grey. It looks like a snowy forest at night. Regulus makes no comment, only closing his eyes and pressing his finger to his temple as she slides away from the desk towards the owl.
It hoots at her, flapping his wings but unlike the first time she met him, it does not bite her as she reaches to scratch his head. Probably recognises her under the Polyjuice.
"Hey Gregovitch," she sings. It cocks its head to the left, letting her scratch lightly at its neck. Sighing, Cressida glances back to Regulus who is staring at her. "I'll go." No use in pissing him off.
"Wait."
She pauses near the door.
Regulus stands, marching closer to her. Cressida leans back slightly as his figure towers over her. His black curls have been trimmed since the last time they met, sitting neatly just over his ears. "I'll help you."
Cressida frowns then lifts her brows before frowning once more. "You will?" Regulus stares at her, perhaps out of hesitation but that is not what shows inside of his eyes. His mind is made, but he too is trying to figure out a why.
He nods without smiling. "Yes, but this is not an open friendship. You will refrain from talking to me when we are in the presence of others. For both our sakes."
"Is there a particular reason for that or do you just not wish to ruin your image of social isolation?"
"Because I haven't decided how dangerous you are just yet and I'd rather keep my distance if do so prove to be."
"I-I'm not dangerous," Cressida spits out. "At least not in the way I think you're suggesting. I am loyal to the Dark Lord."
Regulus tilts his chin upwards. "Yet nobody really knows that much about you."
Cressida shrugs meekly. "Their fault for not doing their homework on their comrades."
He snorts, smirking off to the side. "First rule of Death Eater club; don't call them comrades." She makes a noted gesture. "Second," he adds with a hardier tone and sharp eyes. "Always come when he calls."
Cressida inhales deeply, glancing down at her left arm where the Dark Mark sits. She hasn't had the guts to look at it. "Could I ask you a favour? Could you come to me first whenever we are summoned, just so I am not arriving alone? I don't even know how to know where to go."
She expects him to snarl at the idea, but it is her only current hope. To her amazement, Regulus nods his head slowly. "I can do that." Cressida nods in satisfaction, a small fragment of her anxiety chipping away.