(04 : SUCH A VILLAIN IS A GUEST . . .
I'LL NOT ENDURE HIM)

✧࿐ ཾ✧

     GRUMBLING, JULIET RETURNED TO THE Slytherin common room after talking to the house elves in the kitchens about bringing some food to the party. Whilst the Seventh Years stocked up on alcohol, they neglected to organise anything else, which led to the redhead falling responsible because she was one of the few that knew where the kitchens were located and was deemed the least threatening. She would have taken great offence to that if she hadn't known being underestimated was never a bad thing — not in a house as cutthroat as Slytherin.

    Juliet's sour mood stemmed from playing messenger and the fact some boneheaded Gryffindor bumped into her on the way. It only worsened when she heard an obnoxious voice call out, "Not talking to yourself, are you, Fawley?"

Blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes, she barely glanced up as she brushed past him. "Not in the mood, Black."

    Regulus Black had a reputation, despite only being fifteen. Juliet knew of him and they exchanged pleasantries in passing, but that was where their relationship ended. Or at least where it used to end. Nowadays, she was expected to pop out ten kids with the boy — and he was a boy — then send said kids on their merry way to be branded like cattle for someone else's Lord. Not her Lord. Not yet.

"Tough, I want to talk to you." He caught the older girl's arm before she could disappear in her dorm.

Confused, she blinked back at him. "Talk?"

"Yes," he said slowly, "I want to talk. You know, exchange words, hell, maybe even sentences. It's something people tend to do."

Realising his hand was still on her arm, she shook him off. "Don't patronise me. You'll have enough time for that when I'm your wife," she snarked. "And I don't mean to be rude — well, actually I do — but I've had a shit day and I don't feel like bonding with someone whose balls have barely dropped. Can we reschedule our pity party for another day?"

Everyone at Hogwarts knew what type of person Juliet was — cold, unforgiving, deceptively innocent at times — and she had spent too long behaving that way to drop her armour, even for her future husband. It was the only security she knew and Regulus would understand that as a pureblood and a Slytherin. Not having emotional attachments was an unwritten rule in their world.

The dark-haired boy snorted, unbothered by her comments. "And I don't feel like bonding with a spoiled brat that can get through this war by looking pretty," he mocked. "But, the Dark Lord really isn't the type to care about our feelings, so I thought I'd be the bigger person and try to get to know the woman I'm engaged to."

"Betrothed."

"Is there a difference?"

"I'm not sure, but betrothed sounds fancier. Like I have less of a choice," she answered dryly.

Regulus analysed her, taking in the way she looked anywhere except his eyes. "I don't have a choice either."

With a sigh, she walked over to the drinks table — adorned in green and silver — and poured some firewhisky into a plastic cup, ensuring it was filled to the brim. Although the party had yet to officially start, she was in desperate need of a drink and doubted any of her housemates would mind. "How sad it is we are puppets to fate then," she mused thoughtfully.

"Fate is bullshit," Regulus argued, surprised that she showed no annoyance at the fact he trailed after her. Juliet wasn't known for her patience. Albeit, she knew that Slytherins could be a determined bunch too.

Leaning against the drinks table, Juliet unwillingly allowed her lips to quirk into . . . something that wasn't quite a smirk or a smile. "Oh, I bet you're a Gemini," she guessed.

    "Do you actually believe in all that?" asked Regulus. "Astrology?"

    "Pessimism when it comes to the stars is rich from a boy called Regulus," she countered. "If you must know though, I believe that there are things in this world we don't have a choice in. Whether or not they were written in the stars, or can be foretold is another question . . ." she trailed off before pushing her now empty cup into her fiancé's chest, putting a little extra sway into her hips as she went to prepare for yet another Slytherin party.

✧࿐ ཾ✧

Only a few hours later, the Slytherin common room was packed full of dancing bodies, most of whom were clad in some form of fancy dress. Of course there were the odd few who thought they were 'too cool' for Halloween and showed up purely for the booze. Juliet had long ditched her red cloak, sweating from the heat vibrating throughout the room. Underneath, she wore a little black dress that was getting more wrinkled as the night dragged on. She was a little tipsy at this point and had opted to take a breather near the drinks table — away from the dance floor and roaming hands.

As she stood in the darkened corner, a costumed jester bounded towards her, unsteady on his legs as he spun her around so his back was to the majority of the party. "Fawley! Who would have ever thought I'd be glad to see you?" The stranger was visibly relieved and pulled her deeper into the shadows, shushing her.

     Juliet cocked her head, recalling how he walked in with three other boys — a member of the rock band KISS, a werewolf and a very convincing Riff Raff from the muggle film, The Rocky Horror Picture Show. She remembered because it was early on in the night and was the kind of entrance that caught the room's attention. However, she had no clue who any of them were, but admired the effort they must have all went to for one night. In a costume of red and gold velvet, the jester was rather handsome, albeit stressed — his colourful makeup was smudged and he kept running his hands through his already too tousled hair, removing his jester's hat in resignation.

"Are you a mute now? Because I might need you to hide me for a while and it'll be easier on us both that way," he continued, downing the rest of his drink.

Shaken out of her daze, she narrowed her eyes. "I don't need to do anything," she bit. "What are you even doing? Would you stop?" Juliet slapped his arm when he kept trying to readjust her stance to shield him from the view of someone.

"Please," he begged, widening his eyes. "I'm trying to avoid Sir — a friend." James recalled he wasn't even meant to be at the rival house's party and shouldn't mention names. "He's worried about me. Any other time, I'd be fine with it, he's like my brother, but right now . . . I want to forget. I don't want to burden him with my shit when he has enough of his own — believe me, his is worse than mine."

Half-heartedly, she handed him her own drink. "You need it more than me," she shrugged. "Get drunk, make mistakes and forget whatever's got you wound so tight because Merlin knows none of us have much longer left to enjoy our youth," added Juliet wistfully.

Her words, although slurred, were comprehensible and alarmed the more sober of the pair. "Huh?" Not his most eloquent of statements, but an intoxicated Juliet Fawley was not what he expected.

"There's a war brewing outside," she spluttered. "For all we know, this could be the last time we go a party that doesn't end in crucio. It's not like any of us will leave Hogwarts and be able to travel or find ourselves o—or do some bullshit philanthropy work to avoid making important life decisions, we'll all graduate in two years and become fucking murderers. Some of us are already!" the Slytherin confessed, finding her tongue to be awfully loose after all of the alcohol she consumed. "Everyone in this room is a Slytherin, that means everyone in this room is destined to be bad. Evil even. We're the ready-made villains."

James Potter frowned. "You always have a choice. Nobody is born bad."

"Tell that to the Gryffindors that hex anyone wearing green robes! Tell that to the muggleborns that I find crying on my rounds because they don't think they belong in Salazar's supposedly great house! Tell that to the fathers that will sell their child's soul to some baldheaded buffoon!" Juliet yelled, her blue eyes swelling with emotion.

James clamped a hand over the angry girl's mouth. "Shhh! Drunk or not, you're in a room with confirmed Death Eaters. I thought Slytherins are meant to be good at self-preservation."

In the fog of her brain, something clicked and she lowered her voice. "Fuck those Death Eaters then, and fuck You-Know-Who."

"I'd rather not, thanks," James laughed for the first time in a while.

"That's not what I — oh, I think you have a twin," she hiccuped, motioning towards the empty space that her vision had decorated with a second James. After a while, she found her eyelids to be extremely heavy and her surroundings were all off-kilter — like everything in her sight had been in the washing machine for an hour.

As if sensing some eyes had turned to them amidst Juliet's outburst and strange ramblings, James pursed his lips in thought before wrapping one arm around the redhead's waist. He placed his jester's hat onto her head, sniggering at how the bells jingled with every step the notorious Ice Princess took. Thanks to his Quidditch strength, he found himself easily carrying most of the babbling Slytherin's weight and he didn't complain even as her head dropped onto his shoulder. Whilst his original plan for the night had been to get blackout drunk and to hide from his concerned friends (his McGonagall lie had been the final nail in the coffin), he didn't mind the change of plans at all. It turned out, alcohol wasn't the only way to forget one Lily Evans . . . an equally fiery redhead worked just as well.

✧࿐ ཾ✧

A.N: It's been a while, but I was really disheartened by the lack of response — there's really not enough love for James! But I missed writing and I really wanted to continue with this. I hope you all liked this chapter because it was really fun. I promise this isn't a fast burn though because James might have a crush (hello! this girl hates Voldemort as much as he does, just hides it better except when drunk) but that doesn't change Juliet didn't know it was him . . . Also hope you enjoyed the Marauders' Halloween costumes because I struggled with that.