(22 : TOO RASH, TOO UNADVISED. . .
TOO SUDDEN, TOO LIKE THE LIGHTNING)

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      I LIKE THAT I MIGHT even love her.

I like that I might even love her.

I like that I might even love her.

Like a broken record, James Potter's drunken declaration played in Juliet's mind through the night. It felt too sudden and Juliet knew she couldn't return his feelings, even if she wanted to.

Juliet knew many things — Golpalott's Third Law, how to make Bloodroot Poison, the properties of moonstone — but she didn't know what love was. Until she was fifteen, she had wholeheartedly believed in love being about blows and bruises because the only relationship she had ever known was her parents'. At seventeen, she now knew that wasn't love. Juliet had kissed boys plenty of times and they all made her stomach feel fluttery — she didn't think that was love either. If nobody had ever told what love was meant to be then how would she know what she had with James?

     It was easy to imagine being with James. Forehead kisses and knitted jumpers, handholding and butterbeers, the constant smell of broom polish and dinner with his parents. But she didn't need to be a seer to know that wasn't her future. Instead, Juliet was destined for bloodstains and bleach, empty beds and one too many glasses of red wine, the constant fear of the Dark Lord and stuffy balls with Death Eaters.

     But, was it really wrong to want more?

    Never had Juliet thought someone could love her — she was unemotional and said the wrong thing a lot — but James seemed to think he did. In doing so, she was being given the chance to break away from the life she had been groomed for. An escape from the sinking pureblood ship. If only she was brave enough to dive into the icy water and grab the life preserve he was offering with both hands. Yet, she wasn't nearly as brave as James thought.

Almost mockingly, his jester hat from Halloween sat next to her on the bedside table. Things were much simpler when they hated each other.

     "You in here, Juliet?" queried her roommate, popping her head around the open dorm door. "There you are! I was on my way back from breakfast when someone asked me to give you this."

     Holly handed her a rectangular package that was poorly wrapped in brown paper. Unsure of what it could be, Juliet searched the package for some kind of tag or note. Nothing. Although, she certainly had her suspicions about who it was from.

"Romeo and Juliet?" whispered Juliet upon opening it. Not only was it Romeo and Juliet, someone had wrapped up her well-loved copy of the play. 

However, when Juliet flicked open the first page of her missing book, she was left speechless by the scrawls of black ink that littered the margins and negative space. The handwriting wasn't instantly familiar, but she felt like she had seen it before. Picking up her pace, Juliet continued to thumb through the pages, incredulous.

Questions were scribbled next to lines, including "what's a maidenhead?" and "why would they spoil the ending on the first page?"

Comments were added, like "I feel like an owl would have been a quicker way to send the letter" and "I didn't cry at this book, don't listen to Moony!"

Phrases were highlighted such as "cock-a-hoop" and "my naked weapon is out."

Doodles defaced the pages, stick figures that scarily resembled James and Sirius in a rather graphic sword fight and smiley faces near Juliet's name.

Pages were dog-marked. Passages underlined. Paragraphs annotated. Juliet could hardly believe her eyes, torn between annoyance that James had her book the entire time and awe at all the effort he put into understanding it.

Clutching the book to her chest, Juliet smiled. She knew what to do.

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     When James Potter woke up and snippets of the night prior flashed back to him, he debated the merits of becoming a Death Eater if it meant he wouldn't ever have to look Juliet Fawley in the eyes again. Alas, Remus — no matter how sluggish with the approaching full moon — forced a hangover potion down his throat and recruited James to drag Peter out of bed. The routine was familiar, yet James had never felt his stomach churn with such regret the morning after a party. All the stupid things he did tended to be a funny anecdote when sober.

     This time, James was struggling to see his firewhisky-induced escapades as a punchline when they felt more like a punch in the gut.

     "Potter." A redhead on a mission intercepted his trip to the Great Hall. "We need to talk."

     Juliet didn't wait for his reply. Grabbing his hand, the Slytherin dragged him into the nearest dark alcove. James could only helplessly glance back at his friends, silently pleading for one of them to save him a chocolate croissant. Following a drunken night, James only ever wanted one of Hogwart's famous chocolate croissants. Maybe he'd even have two if his conversation with Juliet went as badly as he anticipated.

When James realised Juliet was burning a hole into their still-locked hands, he pulled away and flushed. "Well, I can only assume you dragged me into this dark corner to talk and not ravish me. Not that I'd be opposed to that," he said as casually as he could manage. "So, what do you want to talk about? Quidditch? Because the finals are —"

   "Come off it, James! We need to talk about the bloody giant in the room."

Leaning back into the wall, James gulped. "Listen, I know Hagrid is on the larger side, but that's —"

The Slytherin glowered at him with such intensity that it was no wonder he didn't burst into flames on the spot. "James."

"I feel like whatever I say will be wrong," conceded James.

"But . . . you remember?" clarified Juliet, a note of something hard to place lingering beneath her tone — hope, perhaps.

    As if bracing himself for an explosion, James closed his eyes. If he was a lesser man, he would've turned around and pretended that he didn't remember a thing past his third drink. However, James couldn't do that to her. His crush on Lily Evans should've really taught him to protect his own heart more often, but he needed her to know he meant every word. Sure, James would've eased Juliet into the idea a little more if he could do it over again, but nothing would change that he loved her. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment — Christmas, maybe — but James Potter unequivocally loved Juliet Fawley.

     Like lightning, his love for her was fast, unexpected and blinding. Yet, there was no doubt it was real.

     The Gryffindor retorted, "I was drunk, not an amnesia patient."

     "You need to give me more than that," prompted Juliet. "I'm confused. Mainly as to why you're acting like this. You don't need to put up a front, James, or make jokes to ease the tension. I'm not . . . mad, if that's what you're worried about. It's more — it's sudden. Just be straight with me, please."

     "Is it really not obvious by now?" James cocked his head. "I fancy you."

     And then he left Juliet stupefied behind a tapestry because — maybe — unrequited love wasn't the worst thing in the world. By all means, it was better than being forced to watch yet another girl bring a sledgehammer down on his barely-healed heart.

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Every single pair of eyes in the Great Hall trailed Juliet as she approached the Gryffindor table. Her nails were digging into her forearms, the excessive gawking making Juliet feel like maggots were scurrying underneath her skin. Not that she expected anything different. People were always waiting for her to slip up — friends, strangers, enemies. Even the ones who pretended they didn't care about popularity and kept their heads down, they were waiting. Everyone was waiting for Juliet to fall from grace. Not that she was going to. But if she ever did, Juliet would at least give them a show, maybe do a back flip on the way down.

"Well," she drawled in her iciest tone, hovering above the Marauders. "If it isn't two half bloods, a blood traitor and the family disappointment."

Some students lost interest, figuring it was the usual happenings of house and blood rivalries. Others were watching with rapt attention, wondering if a fight would break out, speculating over what the Marauders had done now.

Stuffing his face with a chocolate croissant, James appeared extremely lost. "Huh?"

Juliet sent him a wink.

"Not fair, I wanted to be the blood traitor!" whined Sirius, seemingly catching on quicker than the rest of his friends. "I suppose you can't really talk about anyone being a family disappointment though. After all, Daddy did always want a boy, right?"

"Ouch, right where it hurts," she mocked, putting her hand over her heart.

Sirius chuckled. "What? In your left boob?"

Juliet leaned across the table, mildly amused as she whispered, "Remember that time you told me you cried watching your brother catch the snitch? Uh huh, what a shame it would be if someone started to spread such a nasty rumour."

     "No wonder men used to burn witches," muttered Sirius, buttering his toast with a little too much vigour.

     "Anyways, good talk, boys," chirped Juliet, patting James' chest in what could only be interpreted as a condescending manner. "I'll see you in Potions."

     Turning to his friends, Peter frowned. "What just happened?"

     "Not a clue, Wormy. Not a clue," humoured James, discreetly swiping the piece of parchment Juliet had dropped in his breast pocket.

    Only when the boys had resumed their usual chatter did James unfold the parchment. Grinning, the boy read:

HEY ROMEO,

MEET ME OUTSIDE THE TAPESTRY OF BARNABAS THE BARMY ON THE SEVENTH FLOOR. TONIGHT. 7PM. DON'T MAKE ME REGRET IT.

JULIET.

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A.N: I really loved writing this chapter even if it was more to do with Juliet's thoughts than usual. I feel like it needed to be made clear that James falls in love fast. Juliet has never had any examples of love, but she's willing to meet with James, which is good, right? I'm also just going to say now, Juliet pretending to be a bitch to keep her friendship with James a secret is my new favourite thing to write.

Question, is there anything you want to see from this book? Certain scene? Favourite trope? More of something? I'm currently planning for Seventh Year with Sixth Year almost over and I have lots of ideas, but I'm very open to reader's opinions.