(18 : DISPRAISE MY LORD . . .
WITH THAT SAME TONGUE)

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      NOTHING AND EVERYTHING HAD CHANGED. Whilst Juliet still ignored James and Sirius, there would be moments — so brief that you'd blink and miss it — where they would exchange a million words through a glance alone. It became a secret game to James. He would bump into Juliet or ask for a spare piece of parchment, solely to watch as her lips twitched and she bit back a smile before shifting into her uncaring snake persona.

It had been a few days since Juliet's conversation with James and she found herself being drawn to him like a magnet. His faith in her was unshaking and she was desperate to know why. Without meaning to, she started to study him — how his tongue
stuck out a little when he was writing, how a crease would form between his brows when he couldn't figure something out, how he used hand gestures whenever he was trying to explain something. He was a puzzle that she was determined to solve.

"You're staring again." Regulus snapped his fingers in front her face.

Juliet blinked, coming out of her daze. "I'm analysing."

The pair were meant to be studying in the library and then James — surprisingly — entered, which voided any actual work the girl was going to do. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, per se, but she was waiting for an ulterior motive to come to light, for him to mess up and show her that he wasn't as noble as he seemed. Men took advantage of her and squashed her ambitions — an ironic feat considering she was in Slytherin due to her ambition — and they preferred pretty over personality. Men most definitely didn't stay when she was emotionally vulnerable and bitter, so why did James?

"You're being creepy." Regulus slid a heavy tome in front of her, which brought her attention to him. "Tell me, what are the ingredients required to brew the Draught of Living Death?"

"Infusion of wormwood, powdered root of asphodel, sloth brain and sopophorous bean," she listed off confidently. "Merlin, I hope that's not what they make us brew on the exam. The only one who was successful when we did it was Severus."

Regulus wondered, "Is it really that hard?"

"You'll find out yourself next year, but brewing it wrong will lead to you being dead dead and not living dead," she babbled, flicking through the book to find an O.W.L level potion her companion would know. "How about — Why are you smiling at me?"

In a dismissive manner, he shook his head. "You're different than I expected you to be," he mentioned. "In the beginning, you were so standoffish and now watching you get enthusiastic over something as small as potions is . . . nice."

"I don't think I've ever been called nice before," she mused. "I'm sure you know how it is though, opening up to people too soon is how you get hurt. I should've made more of an effort at the start though. It was easier to be angry at you than at my parents, I suppose."

"I hardly helped matters by leaving you in Hogsmeade," he admitted, taking partial blame. "Maybe we should start over?"

Juliet didn't reply immediately. Everything she had said to him in the beginning was true — it was still her — but she saw the eagerness in his icy eyes and reluctantly agreed. "Hi, I'm Juliet."

"Regulus," he offered, shaking her hand.

She propped her chin on her hand and teased, "Fancy getting married?"

"Eh, I'll pass," he relied wryly.

His serious express lasted a few more seconds before both of them burst into laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of their situation, causing Madam Pince to shush them. During these moments, it didn't feel like they were forced into spending time together. Juliet liked those moments.

Once they quieted, Regulus immediately picked up the conversation, "What do you want to do when we get married? Do you have any goals or a career in mind?"

"Not many people have asked me that," she answered thoughtfully. "I always knew I was going to be a house wife. It was drilled into me from a young age, so I never gave myself any false hope in that sense," she hesitated, "but — and I've never told anyone this — I like the idea of alchemy. Nicholas Flamel pushed boundaries and changed magic as we knew it —" The redhead blew out her cheeks. "— and I'm probably boring you. It was a frivolous thought, really."

He wore a shaky smile — like it didn't appear often enough for the expression to be steady and fully fledged. "You can carry on," he assured her. "I like seeing you get passionate about things. I want to know your likes and dislikes, I'd rather not share my bed with a stranger."

"Don't go all soft on me now, Black. We have reputations to uphold," she goaded. "I'm not very interesting though. I like to read. I have a bookshelf in my dorm. I don't like Transfiguration. I mean, when will I ever need to change a teapot into a turtle outside of class?"

Regulus coughed mockingly, "Tortoise."

"Same thing," she waved off. "I hate marshmallows. I think liking them should be punishable by Azkaban." Juliet chewed on her bottom lip and then addressed him, "And you? Are you going to take the —"

All humour was wiped off his face as he whispered darkly, "When I turn sixteen."

Clenching her jaw, she stated, "That's in three months."

"I respect your feelings on the matter, Juliet, but it's something I need to do." There was a faraway look to his eyes. "His methods are medieval, but I can't say I disagree with his aims. We're wizards — we have magic! — yet we're the ones sequestered away like a dirty secret. Muggles have no clue what we could do for them. Think of how much more advanced we are in medicine and —"

"We're not that advanced," she countered. "We still use quills, owls and brooms, muggles have pens, electricity and cars."

Momentarily alarmed, he raised a quizzical eyebrow at the redhead.

Lowering her head, she rushed to add, "There was a timetable mix up in third year. I had to take Muggle Studies. Bloody agonising it was, but I must concede they're quite ahead of us in some ways."

"The Dark Lord isn't the crazed man Dumbledore makes him out to be," he maintained. "I've been following him for years, ever since my parents first mentioned the name. He has extensive knowledge of some of the most complex magics and could change our world as much as Nicholas Flamel, maybe more so. Your interest in alchemy would be a real asset to him. My cousin, Bellatrix, is part of his inner circle already."

Unnerved by how manic he sounded, Juliet faltered, "Are you being forced to join him?"

He hesitated. "Nobody is forced. Loyalty only comes from those who are willing."

"Does that mean you don't care that a child was murdered?"

"No—"

"That innocents are being tortured every day when we merely won the genetic lottery with our pure blood?"

"Juli—"

"What about all those wizarding businesses that were destroyed? The livelihoods that were lost in your little murder club's attack?"

"Don't," he warned. "You're overstepping."

As if only just catching herself, Juliet froze. She felt so comfortable with Regulus that she ran her mouth without thinking twice. He seemed to respect her, viewing her as more than a decorative ornament in his life. Yet, he was as bad as the rest of them.

     "Forgive me." An insincere, society smile formed on her lips as she placated, "I think I lost my head for a second there. I'd like to think there are better methods for callous murder, but muggles have kept us exiled far too long. You're right."

     Regulus Black was no fool, but he was grateful the redhead in front of him was so smart. He let out a breath of relief and murmured, "We are the players in someone else's game, Juliet. That's all we've ever been. For your sake, play along instead of trying to take control of the board."

     In irritation, her mouth twisted. "I should go."

     As Juliet hastily gathered her things and shoved them into her bag, a young Hufflepuff boy — probably only eleven or so — approached the table. He was trembling, a piece of parchment clutched in his hand.

     "Can we help you?" drawled Regulus, leaning back into his chair.

     "Are you Regulus Black and Juliet Fawley?" he rushed out, squeezing his eyes shut. When they nodded, he continued, "I was told to give you this."

     Snatching the parchment out of the boy's hand, Juliet scanned the note, a lump forming in her throat. "Who gave you this?" No answer came, so she banged her fist against the table and repeated, "Who gave you this?"

    "I—I can't remember."

     Noting the redhead's distress — some would mistake it for anger, but Regulus knew better — the boy sent the Hufflepuff away with a flick of his hand. He then stood up and placed a calming hand on Juliet's shoulder, leaning over to read the contents of the note.

    Before he could see the words, Juliet had balled it up.

    "It was from the Dark Lord," she muttered under her breath. "Apparently we have a dinner date with him."

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A.N: A double update? Unexpected, I know! But I'm the kind of author who will write something and publish it as soon as it's finished because I don't see any point in making people wait. Anyway, this chapter was us seeing what I'm now calling 'soft Slytherins' because they're not always mean. It's nice when I get to write Juliet more relaxed and joking. I did hate writing Regulus this way but canon dictates he kept newspaper clippings of the Dark Lord, so chances are he was a prejudiced git.

In my olds fics (crazy I've been writing for almost six years on here), I used to do questions at end of chapters. And I might bring that back, so what's your favourite HP book and/or HP movie? My favourite book is Goblet of Fire, but my favourite movie is DH Part 2.