Chapter 37: Destroyed
Cressida packs her belongings at a leisurely pace. The Horcruxes now sit at the very bottom of her case as though clothes and trinkets would barricade the dark shadows of magic that seep through them. She knows that she could stay, if she really wished to. Nothing might ever happen, but with a target on her back, it was putting Sirius at greater risk by staying. She tried to convince him to stay and not have to tear away the life that he was building, but he pointed out that if someone was searching for her, and they discovered where she was living, he was in greater danger by staying rather than travelling with her. So every now and then, she hears the shifting of furniture in his own room.
She pulls open the bottom drawer of her dresser where odd shoes that she doesn't wear are stored, along with old schoolbooks and Quidditch gear. She wades through them with her hand, leaving almost all of it behind. Just as she was about to close it once more, her hand brushes over something cold and metal. Her hand stiffens. It takes Cressida a moment to realise that she feels that dark magic tickling her skin. It had become such a common sensation to feel being around three of them in close contact for weeks that she could have mistaken it as the ghostly echo of it. But the metal pulsates its own signature.
Gulping, Cressida slowly tugs on the metal, pulling it from underneath her Gryffindor scarf. It takes her mind a moment to place it. The small tiara-like jewel with a large blue gemstone at the centre. She had taken it from Hogwarts on instinct, having felt its enchantments.
"Holy…shit...Sirius!"
She can hear his socked feet thud against the ground through both their open bedroom doors. "You alright?" he breathes out in a huff, using her doorframe to slow himself down from his socked-foot slide. Cressida nods stiffly, holding the tiara up. "Oh cool. A diadem." Sirius grins, plucking it from her hands and placing it on his head. "I feel royal. Where'd you get this?"
She only stares wide-eyed at him. "It's a Horcrux."
He begins slapping his own head like a spider has crawled into his hair until the tiara – no, diadem – falls to the ground with a loud clang. "Could have told me that before I put it on my head!" he cries. "Do you just have random Horcruxes lying around or something?!"
"No just that one," she mutters, staring at the diadem. "I didn't-I… I-I got it from Hogwarts. In the Room with the Hidden Door. There were thousands of things, but I felt the enchantment on it, and I wanted to figure out what it was. I just realised, because Horcruxes all feel the same to me."
Sirius stares at it as well. "Has that been in your draw since you moved in?" Cressida nods silently. "Cress… Maybe it's been affecting you." Her eyes lift to meet his black ones. "You've had episodes where things have gotten really dark. This could have been making you worse. If you're already susceptible to it, who can say how much it's been amplifying anything dark inside you."
"Dark?" she echoes in a whisper.
"Dark thoughts. You already know but I've been having some pretty bad dreams. They just came out of nowhere. It's affecting us in the best ways it knows how to."
She looks back down at it, only this time with longing. Could this have been hurting her without realising it? How much would she change if it was destroyed? "Now I've got four in my bedroom." How much worse is it going to make her?
Cressida pushes her palm against her forehead, an array of emotions flooding her. Relief that it may have been a parasite, in a manner of speaking, after all. Fear of what it would do to them both if they couldn't figure out how to destroy them.
"Hey." Sirius grabs her shoulders, forcing her gaze away. He leans down to her height, shaking her gently. "Now that we know, we can handle it. We can focus on knowing that it isn't our own heads making us think or experience these things."
"What if we can't," she panics. "Sirius, we just had a terrible fight that was with the intention to hurt each other. We have magical barricades on the windows, and I don't know how much the Horcruxes affected that. But we can't risk hiding them someplace else."
"But we didn't know," he intones. "We do now. That's the difference." She nods again, arms folded close to her chest. "Come on, take a break. We can finish packing later." He leads her out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind them. "What do you want to do?"
Her lips curl inwards, her eyes drifting around the flat until they land on Sirius himself. "I want to listen to some music. Block out everything else."
"I think we're going to need a muffling spell."
The record player plays as loud as it can go. It takes them a song or two to shake off the lingering darkness of the Horcruxes, but they fall into the rhythm of Billy Joel and dance in front of their windows for the world to see. Cressida falls into ease and content until Sirius holds up a finger with a broad grin and changes the record. He places the spindle carefully down near the middle, listening to the track play then adjusts it to another.
"You'll love this one," he tells her as the tune begins to flow. Cressida pinches her brows in concentration but soon it befalls her. At her realisation and laugh, Sirius takes her hands, pushing them back and forth.
What'll you do when you get lonely
And nobody's waiting by your side?
You've been running and hiding much too long
You know it's just your foolish pride
Layla, you've got me on my knees
Layla, I'm begging, darling please
Layla, darling won't you ease my worried mind
They laugh and they dance, and Cressida knows that this is their proper apology to each other. A sign that all was forgotten and forgiven. That all is right in their world.
Xx
"It's nearly dinner, what do we want?"
Cressida strides to the pantry and fridge, opening both. "Nothing because apparently, I haven't bought groceries all week. I'll run down at get some before it gets too late." Spinning on her heels, she cups her hands with an innocent smile. "Money please."
With a roll of his eyes, Sirius hands her a small pile of Muggle change. "Lucky you're cute," he mutters. "Can I make a request for dessert?"
"It's going to cost you," she smirks, making a gesture for more. With his tongue and cheek, his expression clearly questions her audacity, Sirius pulls out another ten pounds and places them in her hand. "What do you want?"
"Strawberry ice cream."
"Can do." Taking her purse from where it hung off a chair, Cressida slips on her shoes and prepares to go. It would only be a fifteen-minute walk to the local convenience store.
"Oi." Wondering if she had forgotten something, Cressida raises her head with searching eyes. Sirius only saunters up to her with a playful smile. He holds another note out to her. "Buy yourself something."
She only looks at the note. "I don't need to. I have everything I need."
"Then buy something that you want."
Her eyes narrow, not yet taking it. "Why are you suddenly trying to spoil me? You know that I don't like it. And your usual ways of showing affection are knitting me stuffed sharks or socks."
"Merlin Cressida, take the damn money and be irresponsible with it for once," he laughs. "Take it or I will buy you something ridiculous that you'll never use but costs twice as much as this."
Rather promptly, she snatches it from his hand. "I'll buy the biggest tub of ice cream."
She leaves, hearing his soft laughter until she closes their front door. Her trip to the grocer is filled with muttering about how 'those two rich boys are so careless with their fortunes' and how she'll be 'spending the rest of my life paying them back'.
The door of the grocer creaks open, encasing her sight in a stark bleakness. Aisle upon aisle. It blurs together, and for a moment, Cressida cannot distinguish the hanging signs with numbers and products. Her shoulders round off, feet stuck on the threshold of cement and the white vinyl tiling. It felt so wrong.
She spins around, looking for someone watching her or a sign of danger. But there is nothing but a mother trying to round up her two children into the carpark. Yet the panic doesn't wane. She does everything, but part of her holds onto that panic, knowing that it is coming from somewhere.
It is blue hour, casing the world in a soft blue hue with the sun having set less than an hour ago, but a remnant of its light still scatters London.
The air in her lungs becomes too little for her body. Sirius. It doesn't matter if they have to walk back in the dark, Cressida decides that she needs to go back and get him to come with her.
To store employee closest to the door gives her a strange look but Cressida doesn't take notice. Her shoes scuff the pavement, arms swinging with purpose. A car honks at her, but she barely blinks, darting across the road. She can see her building after ten minutes and it almost has her sprinting.
Taking the alleyway that cuts halfway down the block, Cressida slips into the shadows, finally breaking into a jog. There's nothing outside the building that signals for danger. But she's certain it's there. She's never been so certain of something in her life.
Her head is turned upwards to the brick construction of her home block, and she almost runs into another figure in the dark alleyway. Cressida squeals at the last moment, leaping away from the shadow shrouded person but her fright soon turns to relief.
"Peter," she laughs through a shaken breath. "You scared me."
Peter stands before her. His eyes are dark, or perhaps it was just the dark circles underneath them. He wore almost a completely black attire which is why he blended with the shadows so well. "Sorry," he says.
The sense of danger doesn't trickle away. If anything, it heightens like a blaring signal in her ears. Her smile wavers, eyes travelling over his silhouette. "Peter? Why are you here?"
"I've come to visit you and Sirius," he says. His voice is strained, however much he attempts to cover it.
Her instincts speak for her. "Sirius is really sick actually. It's probably best you come back next week, I don't want you getting it." Starting to walk forward again, Cressida watches him carefully. Peter doesn't move until her shoulder brushes past him. In one swift movement, his fingers clamp around her wrist like a python. "Peter!" she hisses.
"I'm sorry."
Her other hand dives for her wand, but after years of knowing her, Peter already knows exactly where she keeps it from habit. His hand beats her to it, snatching her wand and shoving in his back pocket.
"No!" Cressida struggles against him, but he manages to lock both her arms into his control. "Let go of me! Peter!" If anybody else heard her cries as he dragged her towards the building, nobody came. He silenced her with a muffling charm within moments. Why are you doing this, she cried out. But of course, he didn't hear her. He dragged her into her own building
This was it, she realised. The betrayal.
As soon as she realised that she would be taken to Sirius, her struggling dwindled into a lesser, but constant stream of yanks and shoves. There was no other noise besides the tips and heels of her shoes scraping across the floor, her screams silent. She couldn't hear Sirius'. Maybe he was safe.
The number 23 became dreadful to see. Still, no sound came from her flat. Peter gripped one wrist tighter, the other twisting the knob. He pushes her through, and Cressida falls to the ground, feeling a ward morph around her that they had not placed. And sound fills her ears.
"I don't know where she is!"
"I do."
Cressida lifts her head, palms pressing into the ground.
Sirius leans against the furthest wall near the television. His forehead is gashed and bleeding heavily but that is the smallest of injuries. His shirt is slashed down over his chest to his abdomen, painting the white canvas of his shirt dark red. The same red that is splattered across the glass panelling of the nearest window.
Rosier stands over him with a cunning smirk. Sirius stares at her with a befallen expression. He was hoping she wouldn't be home so soon, she realises.
"There's the rat," he grins. "Finally. You would think you were easy to find and kill." He kicks Sirius' side which boils her blood alone. Sirius whimpers, gripping his side.
Cressida stumbles to her feet, standing tall, but silent and still.
"Are you surprised?" Rosier taunts. "That one of your little posse friends finally found sense and joined us?"
"No," she spits. "I'm not. He was always the weakest." The jab is meant for Peter to hear. She doesn't care if he feels remorse for his decisions, or if he begs for forgiveness. The moment he decided to join them, her friendship and loyalty to him were lost.
Rosier only makes an expression of amusement. He glances down at Sirius who glares straight back. "Pity. I was hoping to torture you more." Sirius pushes off the wall with his elbows, twisting and falling onto his hands and knees. Rosier only chuckles cynically, striding away from him and towards Cressida.
"Don't you fucking touch her."
"Now, now," Rosier sneers, his eyes pinned on her. "I can share. Though not with blood traitors, so you do lose out this time."
Trapped. That's what she is. Between two Death Eaters. She has a door on one side. If she escaped through it, she could potentially get far enough to apparate away. But even the simplest idea of that disintegrates in her mind. Sirius.
Cressida watches him over Rosier's shoulder, just barely crawling his way to something, leaving a trail of blood on the ground. His wand, she thinks. He's going for his wand. She quickly takes three steps back, bumping into Peter's chest so she would block any sight of Sirius' movements to him.
Get Sirius out. That is the only aim she has.
"I have orders not to kill you," Rosier gleams, "but that's an interpretive order."
Her panic swells beyond her limits, hard pants travelling through her nose with each step that he takes closer to her until his breath caresses her forehead. She leans back, but the only safety she finds is Peter and she can't decide if the one who betrayed her and Sirius or her long-term enemy is worse.
"I said, don't fucking touch her."
Rosier spins around, ducking just in time as a red spell shoots through the air. Peter and Cressida both duck just in time for it to collide with the door, sending a branch of cracks through it.
Rosier waves his own wand. "Expelliarmus!" Sirius watches his wand shoot off towards the kitchen, well out of reach. Rosier starts marching towards him, wand still raised, and Cressida knows in her gut that the next spell wouldn't just stun him.
"Argh!" Her elbow drives back with as much power as she can conjure. Peter grunts and bends forward, grabbing at his stomach. Sparing no moment, Cressida snatches her wand from his back pocket and shoves him backwards. Peter falls against the door, face twisted in pain. In one swift movement, she whirls back towards Rosier. He already has his wand pointed back towards her. A bright green light encases her vision.