Whimsical {James Potter}

Chapter 12

Chapter 12: A Shot in the Dark

Cressida searches through the lower level of the house first, hoping that he had just gone to the kitchen or bathroom, but with no sign of any life, she heads upstairs towards his bedroom.

The wood underneath her socked feet creaks slightly in odd places, yet familiar from the many times she's taken note of it from sneaking around.

James' door is shut, which makes her second guess her confidence that he would be there. Why would he come up here and shut his door? He hadn't given any hint – that she noticed – that he didn't want to be down there. Nevertheless, she ends up at the foot of his door, raising her knuckles. She taps three times.

Cressida hears a muffled, "Yeah?" so she opens the door. She's always amazed how perfectly his room matches him. James stands near his window, hands braced on the sill, despite the outside being dark. He doesn't look over his shoulder to see who she is, nor does he call out. Cressida strides forward quietly, ducking underneath one of his arms and pops up between them, her lower back pressing against the windowsill. She ignores how little room there is between the window and James, and consequently her.

He sighs once his eyes gloss over her face – or maybe just an exhale that's bigger than usual. Is there a difference? "What's up buttercup?" Cressida questions with a tiny smile. His throat bobs in a slow gulp, both brows raising in silent questioning. "Not a fan of that one? How about, why so glum, chum?" There's a minuscule lift in the corner of his mouth. Cressida tries one more, adding a movement with her head. "What's the deal, banana peel?" James still doesn't respond, only staring at her tiredly. "Ok, well I'm out of funky greetings so this is the part where you respond with why you just left. Unless of course, you'd rather talk to someone else – and I'm completely fine with dragging one of those boys up here by the ear."

"I'm fine, Cress," he mumbles.

"No, that's what you say at the end once you talk to me," she drawls, poking his stomach with the middle knuckle of her finger. "I know it's more of a girly thing to do – talk about feelings and stuff – but it's also healthy and a good way to have communication."

"You and Sirius," he says, no longer keeping their soft volume. "You were joking and laughing about what happened the other week. I just... I..."

Her brows furrow deeply. "I don't understand. All of us joke about this type of stuff. Remember the time Peter broke both his arms because the Whomping Willow got him good? Sure we were worried at the time but he was patched up in a heartbeat and we were joking about it the next day."

"I know," James breathes out quickly. "But we knew he'd be fine. We just had to get him to Pomfrey. Cress, I didn't know if you'd be alright." She forces herself to hold his steady gaze though her instincts tell her to look somewhere else. "I didn't know what had happened, I got there and the both of you were covered in blood. You looked like you were about to faint, we didn't have any dittany and I was scared that going back to get my parents would have been too long." He licks his lips, letting his head drop forward between his shoulders.

Cressida's face burns in embarrassment. An embarrassment that the situation has created such a fuss.

"I was genuinely terrified," he whispers, a hard contrast to the steady toned voice from seconds ago. "And... I can't get past feeling that every time I think about it and hearing you laugh now, I feel like we're remembering different things. It's still a bad memory."

Cressida nods slowly, digesting his perspective. To her and Sirius, they had faced a crazy day with all sorts of highs and lows. He was there to bicker with her straight after they came from the woods and she knows that like her, was panicking beyond what they needed to. But they can see that in hindsight. And laugh.