Chapter 30: Insanity

She leaves a bloody handprint on the glass pane of the door like a marker for those to come after she leaves. Cressida sprints up the stairs, tripping once and bruising her forearms.

Regulus is dead. Fabian and Gideon are dead.

All that runs through her mind is to just think straight. Think or she'll be next. She fumbles into her bedroom. The first thing she grabs is her extended bag, and she shoves the three Horcruxes inside of it. Cressida hastily rubs her hands off on her pants, trying to clear them of blood as she spins around, looking fervently at everything. What could she leave and what could she take?

The letter. Regulus' letter sits on her bed. She takes it, stuffing it too in her bag. That's everything. Her hands still tremble, raking through her hair, tears mixing with smudges of blood. She pulls off the black cloak. Her throat cracks into a tiny scream.

It's time to go home.

Cressida races back outside, panic swelling throughout her body. It takes over piece by piece. Barely making it to the alleyway, she apparates once more. It is no shock when pain flares in her palms. Her back falls against a new alleyway, one covered in graffiti. She holds her palms upwards. They are thinly sliced like she let a cat use her as a scratching board. Clenching them and holding them to her chest, Cressida finds her way out of the alley through her blurred eyes.

She can hardly breathe, light-headedness making her feel afloat in the world. She sways from side to side, digging into her purse to find the keys to her home's front door. The keys clatter against each other from her shaking hands. She finds the right one and it trembles against the lock, the tip refusing to slip inside. "Fuck! Come on!"

Using both hands, she steadies herself enough to slip the key into place and the door falls open at a single twist. She yanks it out, nearly snapping it in half and runs for the stairs. She doesn't even know why she's running. The Death Eaters aren't behind her.

Cressida leaves a red tainted trail of her path against the railing and the other wall. One flight. Two flights… three… four… five. Five. Crying in relief that she hadn't fallen down, she takes to the hallway of the fifth floor, watching the numbers on the doors increase.

At number twenty-three, she bangs her fists against the wood, knowing that trying to get the key in would be fruitless at this stage. "Please!" Merlin above let Sirius be home, she prays.

Upon hearing footsteps, Cressida steps back so she doesn't fall forward when the door opens. She stumbles against the far wall, next to a potted plant and underneath a hideous geometric painting.

The door opens slowly and Sirius's head pokes out first. His hair is still long, is the first thing her mind goes to. She watches fear flood him and his wand raises towards her. She still looks like Rowena Tether, known Death Eater. "W-"

"Sirius," she cries.

Then it happens. The recognition of her voice. His lips part with a sharp exhale, the rest of his face frozen in time. It crumbles at the same time his wand drops. "Cress?" he breathes.

She nods, striding forward and he swings the door open wider. Her legs don't slow, only coming to a sudden stop once her arms fling around his neck. Her chest heaves in pants of relief, finally feeling some sense of familiarity. Three months. "Sirius," she sobs, each syllable coming out separately.

He turns with her in his arms, knocking the door shut with a loud bang. He doesn't say anything, but she can feel his arms around her and it's enough. Cressida digs her face into the shoulder of his white shirt, refamiliarizing herself with the scent. He brushes back the frazzled hair from the side of her head, pressing one long kiss against her temple.

Cressida lifts her head once he does. She sees the smudges of blood staining his previously pristine clothes. Her arms loosen and she takes a step away from him. his own brother's blood.

Sirius looks down at himself then back up to her. "Your hurt. Where are you hurt?"

"I…I-I. N-No." Slowly she raises her palms to her eyes again. Numbly she turns towards the rest of her home and walks towards the bathroom, stumbling. Sirius catches back up with her, an arm spreading across her shoulder, the other taking her closet forearm and holds her steady. All she can do is stare at the blood, wondering whose it is.

Sirius leans in front of her, opening their small bathroom. It is clean and bright, almost painful to her eyes. He leaves her side to turn on the tap at the sink then draws her back between his arms and guides her hands under the running water. The basin soon turns into a constant splash of dark pink, the blood washing away to leave the clean cuts.

"I'm not hurt. These are just-" she pauses to catch her breath "-splinches."

"It's someone else's blood?"

Cressida nods. The water turns clear again so she tugs on her sleeves, pulling them up along her forearms. The Dark Mark paints her skin in a faded black. It's the first time she's seen it on her own skin. She had refused to look before. And it becomes the tipping point.

Cressida pushes away from the sink and towards the bath, grabbing the scrubber off its stand. She turns the tap of the bath on instead, soaking the scrubber then holds it to her skin. She rubs at it with no resistance.

"Cress? What are you doing?"

"I want it gone. I need it gone. I can't-"

It doesn't flake off like her mind envision would happen, so she presses harder, a deep rash-like redness rising and causing a small swelling. Her throat rips into another scream as it doesn't disappear at all.

"Hey, no-no." Sirius kneels down behind her, reaching over her shoulders and pries the scrubber from her hands. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"I don't care. I can't look at it."

She can't bear the mark of a killer any longer. It had been hard enough to wear the face of one. Cressida tries to take the scrubber back, but he tosses it far behind him. She leans forward, stomach pressing deep into the edge of the bath.

"It's Polyjuice, it'll wear off soon." Sirius slowly pries her hands from the bath's edge, gathering them into his own. "Let go. Let go and close your eyes." Cressida sits back onto the tile, Sirius' chest at her back. She shakes like she had just come out of the ice tub again. Her teeth chatter, ears clenching. "Let me move you. You trust me."

She does. He pulls her raw arm close to her own chest, the Mark facing inwards. His arm stretches over it, locking it in place. Her head lops against his chest, his thundering heartbeat becoming something entirely new for her ears to focus on. "I've missed you."

He drops his head down to hers, nudging her temple with his nose. "I've missed you too. It's been lonely living alone. Cress… I… You look like Death Eater. I thought you were with Snatchers?"

Her head shakes as she turns herself onto her side. "Not now." Tears still stream down her face, but control is given back to her chunk by chunk. She sits there, playing with his fingers. "You haven't cut your hair. I told you to do it."

"I wanted you to come with me. So you could tell the barber what to do. I have no idea what short hair would look good on me. I need you to be the critical eye." She gives the faintest of smiles. Over some time, her skin begins to mould, and her hair shifts back to its normal brown. Finally herself. Sirius lifts her left arm, revealing her now bare forearm. "See. It's gone now."

Cressida twists her arm back around, gathering his hand back in hers. "Sirius, I need to tell you something." Her words are so breathy and light that they barely form.

"I need to tell you some things too." She tilts her head back. His chin is tucked to his neck. "Some good, some not so much."

Her nose begins to sting, a thick swelling in her throat. She has to say it before she can't. "I was with Regulus." Her eyes flutter closed, unable to watch his reaction. "It's… it's his blood." Her gut broils again, churning. "We had a plan. But they were a step ahead."

Sirius' sternum almost completely stops moving. Cressida opens her eyes, staring at the sink counter. "Is he…" She nods. She can't see his face, but she feels his breath on the top of her head, then his lips against her scalp.

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be."

"He was helping me. I was helping him too. I was going to bring him here."

"Cress, please don't sweetheart." She tilts her head back again. Sirius' eyes are watering, his composure tight. "Let me just focus on you."

Her eyes sort of haze over, a numbness rising again to protect her. "I need… to get out of these clothes." Death has a way of marking your mind. To see the body of a deceased is one thing, but to watch their life drain in front of you is another. Cressida leans away from him, turning back to the bath and turns the tap on again. The entire world shrinks down to just that running water. Glancing over her shoulder, she finds Sirius sitting against the tiled wall, watching her with a pained expression. "Y-y…you have blood on your shirt."

Sirius lifts his lips gently and lies straight through his teeth. "Just from your hands."

Once the bath is full, Sirius still hasn't left. Cressida pushes against the edge of the tub, lifting herself enough to just slide in. A handful of water sploshes over the side. Whirls of red already begin seeping from clothes. She scrubs again, albeit softer this time. Sirius shuffles over so he sits next to the tub. His arm drops inside, fingers gracing the water's surface.

"You look so tired."

"I am." Her own fingers rise from the bottom of the tub, dusting over the tips of his. "I've met him, you know? Voldemort. A few times actually."

Sirius' head is turned towards her, but his eyes drift outwards. "Moody lied to us. I'm not sure he would have even told us the truth if something happened to you. I think something has happened to you. Coming home, covered in blood and terrified. I shouldn't have let you go. James was right."

"Nobody was right," she whispers, eyes closing as she lets herself sink further into the lukewarm water. It covers up her collarbone then her neck then her face. Sirius' hand slips entirely into the water, latching onto hers. Cressida goes to sink lower, desiring the serenity of it engulfing her, the water collecting her tears before they can fall. Sirius snaps to his knees, the hand not holding hers going to the back of her neck. He doesn't stop her from going under, but the constant movement of his thumb reminds her that he is still there. Ready to pull her up.

Xx

Cressida sits on the couch, the television black and empty but that isn't where her eyes are pointed. She watches life outside of the windows. The cars, the birds, the clouds. Her home. Sirius cooks dinner – pasta, of course. She peeked over at him at one point just as he wiped his eyes. She didn't look back.

She had gone into her room to get a change of clothes. Finally, something that is her own. Her knitted shark sat with the pillows on a bed so neatly made that she knows it wasn't from her own attempt before she left. She hadn't spoken since the bathroom.

Sirius saunters around the lounge with two bowls. He hands one silently to her then sits down close enough that their legs press together. Cressida eats until her stomach refuses to allow anything else. It isn't much, but at least half. She places the bowl on the coffee table, the only sound in the entire flat being the metal clang of Sirius' fork against the ceramic of his bowl. Turning in her seat, she winds an arm around his front and an arm around his back, linking them together on his far shoulder. Her lips flatten against his shoulder, the muscle moving underneath. "I love you."

"I love you too, Little Star."