Whimsical {James Potter}

Chapter 9: Spilling

Chapter 9: Spilling

The breath of fresh air that they are gifted in the fields outside of the Potter manor is almost surreal. The grass is slightly overgrown, brushing against their calves and swaying in the light summer breeze.

Cressida marches in front of Sirius' guiding by the hand since she still doesn't completely trust him to follow without her extra push (pull).

Behind them is the manor, in front of them, many yards away is the beginning of the woods and the boundary that separates them from the muggle world. There are magical barriers put in place of course, similar but weaker than those used at Hogwarts that turns muggles away before they can wander into sight of wizards zipping around on brooms. It is their sanctuary. James' place has always been a sanctuary.

Once they reach far enough away from everything, Cressida stops, taking a moment to breathe in the air. Letting go of his hand, she spins around with an anticipating smile. "Do you want to go first?"

Sirius' brows are pinched, his throat bobbing in a dense gulp as he glances around the field before looking at Cressida with uncertainty. "Not really," he sighs.

Cressida nods, licking her lips in thought. "Alright," she mumbles. What has been on her mind? "I----'ve been so worried about our OWL result coming back that I accidentally pulled a chunk of my hair out the other day."

"You didn't scream it," he comments flatly.

"It builds up."

He blinks, shielding his eyes from the sun. "I still don't understand what I'm supposed to say."

"Absolutely anything," she grins. Her head sways from side to side, thinking of something else and in a louder voice than before, says, "I really wish... you'd stop getting pissed whenever you're upset and just talk."

His mouth parts in a snarky chuckle then presses back together in thought. "I wish that you'd stop bothering me about talking when you still haven't admitted out loud to me after eight months your pathetic crush on James."

Cressida presses her lips together tightly, shaking her head as she tries not to laugh. Ignoring the place she knows he's trying to guide her, with hands firmly planted on her hips, she says, "I hate my father." If he wants to make her say something, then she'll play the same game to get him to do what she brought him out for. "He doesn't deserve my mother but she's also as naïve as a mouse."

"I hate my father too," Sirius responds, not quite yet shouting, but his voice raising above hers. "And my mother. I hate them all." With each word, his chest moves longer and deeper. Cressida nods in encouragement. He doesn't hate Regulus – but she's not here to debate him, she's here to make him talk.

"I told you once that it wasn't cowardly to admit your family is a pile of jerks and you asked why I didn't admit it then," she breathes. "Well fuck them! My mother is a coward! And my father doesn't give a single shit about anything other than laundering and drinking his life away!" Cressida shoves a finger at her chest. "They don't deserve my defences and they certainly don't deserve me!"

"Fuck yes!" Sirius cries, shaking her shoulders. Cressida laughs freely, head tipping backwards and gripping his arms right back. "I'm so sick of them using the word 'family' to try and keep me quiet!" He takes three steps backwards, hands interlocking on the top of his head. "'Don't disgrace your family' or 'you would do this to your own family?' Fuck that! Family doesn't do this to you." He lifts up the side of his shirt to reveal a horribly healing wound. Cressida' stomach drops but she reminds herself that he's also endured a lot worse on school grounds. He's already had the chance to be angry and this isn't the time to berate him for not telling her or James. Or maybe James already knows.