Chapter 35: The Way to Handle Things

Cressida glares at the door that Dumbledore just left through. It was his idea to send her into a camp of Death Eaters. The more she questions things about his intentions of sending her there, the more questions are raised. Though she did share everything that she had found that would help the Order, she left the details of her own personal activities out. But she gave them as much as she could, including upcoming plans of attack and names that she hadn't been able to share with Alastor before she left. Her homecoming wasn't needing explaining, since she had arrived almost precisely when she planned to. The true Rowena Tether was taken to Azkaban without trial. The thanks she received for her duty to the Order were words of caution.

But the Death Eaters already knew her true identity. Rosier could identify her from the scream alone, let alone Snape by her wand. It'll only be a matter of time before they come after her.

Her glare breaks at the sound of someone fumbling about in the safe house's kitchen. Already aware of who it is, Cressida turns slowly on her heels, trailing a path to the archway connecting it to the main room.

Elias fumbles about. It looks like he is trying to make a sandwich but the jam is more of a blob on a single piece of bread. She wasn't there when the news was delivered to the other members of the twin's deaths, and she's thankful for that. Having to see it for herself was enough.

"Hey," she murmurs softly, coming up to his side. She takes the butterknife from his hands, spreading the jam around the bread with ease. "How have you been?"

"Rough," he confesses with a croak. "Merlin, just…both of them at once."

She nods with a grim smile to offer what comfort she can. With the jaw now even, she puts the sandwich together. "Triangles or rectangles?"

"Triangles." The bread easily slices under her movements. Cressida plates the sandwich, handing it to him. Elias takes it with a mouthed thank you. Leaning against the bench, she waits for him to talk more. "You were there, weren't you?" he asks her in a hushed voice. Nodding, she looks up from the floor to his dark eyes. "I haven't told anybody. I figured you'll say what you need to."

"Thank you. For trusting me."

The corners of his mouth twitch up woefully. "I'm not sure what you're doing, but I'm here to help if you ever need it."

"Thank you," she repeats. "But I think I'm currently on the Death Eater's deadpool and I'm not sure what bid I'm at, but I'll guess it's pretty high." They manage a short, shared chuckle at her tone. "I'm trying to keep my circle close. For protection."

Elias finishes the rest of his sandwich. He pushes off the bench, half-turning back to an unmoving Cressida. "Well if you do need anything, it'll be no questions asked."

She smiles again, mouthing an 'appreciate it' but the sound never comes with it. with her duty at the safe-house now complete, Cressida escapes as quickly as she can, disapparating to the Potter manor.

James has been eager for the company, both for his own comfort and to fill up his empty house. A large portrait of Euphemia and Fleamont hangs in the main entertainment room, over the fire. It was beautiful and she has no doubt that James had been very picky on his request for it.

On her arrival, she hears more than two voices. Her cheeks grow wide, the pace of her feet across the hardwood floor speeding. Curving around the threshold into the family room, not only are James and Sirius playing a game of chess, but Remus and Peter are pecking away at a bowl of chips. James and Sirius greet her with warm smiles, their attention soon turning to the other two.

"Cress!" Remus laughs, leaping from the couch. Her arms open wide, a loud hum passing her lips as they collide in a well-needed embrace. "Merlin, you smell awful? Did they have you in the slums of Azkaban or something?"

She draws back, smacking his chest. "I got back on Tuesday you nitwit," she cries, ignoring James and Sirius' sniggers.

"And you haven't come to see me till now?" he counters.

"Not my fault. You were in Wales." Remus resigns with the show of his palms. Peter appears next and Cressida falls into an instinctive embrace with him as well. It is warm and welcoming. She can't help but feel guilty for her suspicions of his enemy allegiance. "How are you, Pete?"

"Fair as can be," he shrugs with his usual smile. "Still alive?"

Cressida pats herself down with squinted eyes. "I think so," she cautions. They chuckle, Peter and Remus going back to their food. She wanders over to the chess game that is set on the floor. Sirius sits with his legs crossed, heavily focused whilst James takes a more eased approach, laid out on his side. Cressida sits at the side of the chest, her legs stretched out in James' direction. Almost instantly he leans up, releasing his arm from the duty of balancing his head, instead laying the hand just above her knee.

With a tipped smile, she points to a black knight. "Move that one to A3 and you get him into check," she tells Sirius. His eyes instantly light, running over the move in his head.

"Uh, excuse me," James bellows. "I'm your fiancé. You're supposed to be on my team."

Cressida peers down at her hand. "I don't see any ring." His eyes widen, hands swiftly moving to pat himself down. In the midst of everything else, he had forgotten to give it back. James darts to his feet without a word, disappearing into the hallway. She laughs at the sound of his feet thundering up the staircase.

Sirius chuckles wickedly, leaning over the chessboard and begins moving around a few pieces. Not enough to raises suspicion unless James was looking very carefully at the board. But by the way he was lounging about, she doubts he really had the game in mind.

"Hey, Sirius?" He briefly glances in her direction. "Do the others know?" His black eyes pull away from the board, examining hers which subtly gesture to Remus on the lounge. Sirius nods with a bashful smile.

"They know."

James returns, skidding from a full sprint. "Hand," he demands, ushering her with his own. She proudly holds it out, letting him slip the ring on. "That's better."

"It is," she agrees. James sits back down, now bundling her legs together. "Sirius moved your castle and your pawn around," she states. The two reactions she gets are utterly amusing. "I'm his fianceé," she shrugs at Sirius' look of complete betrayal. "I'm on his team."

His arm swings out across the board, knocking the pieces to the side.

"Hey, hey," James coos. "Respect the board."

Xx

The five of them lounge out across the floor, a lit fire for both a comforting warmth against the night and a beautiful hue across the room. A bottle of firewhiskey lays near Sirius' feet, but it remains mostly untouched. Cressida laughs at Remus' impression of James losing at chess. Her head rests against said boy's chest and she tips it upwards to laugh right into his face.

"Yeah, alright, alright," James moans. "I get it." He pushes her head back forward then drops his arm back to lay over her chest. Chuckling to herself, Cressida watches Sirius and Remus interact with a fresh view, her fingertips lightly scratching up and down James' forearm. She notes where Sirius' eyes flicker, and the more bashful laughs he gives. She notices Remus body turned towards him more than the centre of the circle they've created. It's adorable to watch.

"You know," she calls out to gather their attention, "I feel a lot better about myself right now." Her smile grows at their slightly bemused expressions. "See, I was always wondering why I never had four boys just completely falling at my feet every day. But Sirius is gay has no attraction to women which rules me out by default so I can't be upset at him. Remus – well, I haven't really figured out what your spectrum is yet but considering that I am now taken, I will just assume that you always loved me but someone beat you to it so now you've gone to the men because you couldn't deal with the rejection. Pete, I'm sorry. I am aware of your undying love for me-" Peter gives a mocking toast with his glass, "-but alas, the overconfident toerag beat you to it. And with that being said, if you were all straight and had the confidence of an oversized moose, I am sure that I would have a concubine of men at my disposal."

Sirius stares at her with a face of laughter but without the sound. "How much firewhiskey have you had?" he questions.

With a single nod, she answers, "None."

The four boys lapse into laughter that fills the otherwise empty halls of the Potter manor. "Now who's the overconfident one?" James whispers into her ear. Cressida only shrugs with an innocent grin. "And I have the confidence of an oversized moose?"

"It's the stag in you." James stares down at her with a mirthful smile. Cressida stares right back at him, drawing it out until she says, "What?"

"Nothing."

"I'm starting to believe that nothing goes on inside your head," she sings, looking back out in front of them with a small smirk. "Just empty calls of a deer at different pitches."

"Only sometimes."

Xx

Her socked feet glide across the floor, a pan balancing in her hold. The sun setting filtered a bright amber light through the large windows angled towards the bedroom doors. It felt lively to cook once more, even if she didn't find it the most enjoyable chore. But with Sirius' record player on, bright sunlight filling the apartment and finally wearing something other than black, she couldn't be more content.

"Dinner is nearly ready!" she calls out to her flatmate who has been hiding away in his bedroom for at least an hour. Turning the stovetop off, Cressida starts searching for plates in the cupboards at knee height. "I'm not sure how the chicken is going to taste because I put a little bit of sugar with the breadcrumbs instead of salt but…" Her sentence trails off. Sirius stands on the far side of the bench with sunken eyes. She drops the plates onto the counter. "Sirius?"

Silently, he places a folded letter onto the kitchen bench. Regulus'. He finally read it.

"I don't know how to feel," he murmurs, staring off to the side with a pained expression.

Leaning forward against the bench, she answers, "I don't think there's a right or wrong way." He does acknowledge her words, too caught up in his own thoughts. Quietly, she finishes plating up their dinner and once it is ready, she takes his around to his side of the countertop where the seats are. "I wish I didn't have to give it to you."

"Me too. Can we watch a movie?"

Sorry for the late update, wouldn't load at all last night