(25 : AND I WILL DO IT . . .
WITHOUT FEAR OR DOUBT)

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WITH GRYFFINDOR DECLARED THE WINNERS of the 1977 Quidditch Cup, the team loudly began to sing their house anthem, swaying and high-fiving each other as they headed to the changing rooms. The once gloomy day had shifted, the golden light of the sun illuminating the already bright smiles of the victors.

Amidst the exultant crowd, Juliet felt out of place. As easy it was to get swept up in the atmosphere of the pitch, Juliet didn't want to intrude on another house's special moment. Even if Lily was more than welcoming, Juliet was a proud Slytherin through and through. Leaving her newfound friend to celebrate with her housemates, Juliet merged with the exiting crowd, a clear destination in mind.

After being pointed in the right direction by another student, Juliet lingered in front of the Gryffindor changing rooms. Wringing her hands, she wondered why she was so nervous. It was James. And she was a Fawley — she didn't get nervous.

"James," she caught his wrist when he exited, freshly showered, "congratulations."

     "Is that it?" James leaned against the wall, cocky and not at all startled by her presence. "I scored two goals so you didn't have to sit through that stupid game to see me lose and all I get is a congratulations?"

     If she was embarrassed that he heard her shouts, she didn't show it. "You missed out the part where I called you a wanker. It was the most important part, in fact."

     He seemed a little more arrogant than normal, perhaps from the high of the win. Juliet couldn't deny she liked it. "I thought it was implied. You always call me a wanker."

"Not always," denied Juliet. "Sometimes I call you a twat."

     The boy's mouth twitched upwards. "Now that you mention it, I seem to remember you calling me cute too."

    Nonplussed, the redhead looked him up and down. "I think you took one too many bludgers to the head. I've never used the words 'James Potter' and 'cute' in the same sentence. Ever."

     "In Hogsmeade, remember?"

Comprehension flooded her features and she slapped him the arm. "I said your whole white knight gig was cute, you arse." Juliet attempted to ignore the fact that she was close enough to smell his cologne — he smelt like citrus and sandalwood. "And I was being condescending!"

Checking himself out, James turned around. "I do have a cute arse, don't I?"

"I never said that either," she pointed out, her mouth agape. "It's like you only hear what you want to hear."

He bit the inside of his cheek and cupped a hand over his ear. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

     James Potter had always been pleasant to look at — untidy curls, hazel eyes, athletic build — but Juliet had always known he was the enemy. He was a reckless, overconfident Gryffindor with an elevated sense of self-importance. Then, he had bulldozed into her life and expected her to compromise her morals for a friendship with him. Yet, as she thought about every senseless talk they shared in the Room of Requirement and every kind gesture he didn't even need to think twice before doing, she wasn't sure if it was a friendship she wanted at all. Of course that was all she could ever have.

     The line Juliet had drawn in the sand had blurred. And when had James Potter ever stayed in line?

Both Juliet and James locked eyes, unsure of what was next. The realisation that James made her happy — a very mundane, but consequential emotion — had dawned on an unsuspecting Juliet with the grace of a hippogriff. There was no buildup of lust, or anything close to love, but a wholly different kind of emotional connection between them in that moment. One that was snipped when some stragglers from the team sauntered between the pair, oblivious to the moment they interrupted.

"You didn't come last night," mentioned Juliet conversationally. "I know we argued, but I waited. I waited for you, James."

James' Adam's apple bobbed dangerously in his throat. "I had a detention, it must've slipped my mind."

Taking a step back, she quirked an eyebrow. "You had a detention for three hours?"

"I went out with the boys afterwards." He evaded eye contact. "I'm sorry. If I had known you were waiting —"

"No," she sighed. "You really don't owe me an apology. I wasn't — I don't want to fight again, James. I wasn't being fair at all and you were right." Her voice was raw with honesty. "I have a terrible tendency to self-sabotage and I got scared when I realised how much you like me. I'm not an easy person to like and you're — you're James Potter. Everyone likes you."

No matter how many times James listed all the reasons he liked her, Juliet failed to see the same girl he did. Juliet was the girl who had been taught to shed her skin like a snake, the girl who became a new version of herself every time someone met her. Yet, James believed he could love — that he did love — the ever changing faces of Juliet Fawley and she couldn't understand how or why. All the times she had claimed he didn't know her stemmed from the fact she didn't actually know herself underneath the various fronts she put up. Granted, Juliet knew what she was not — she was not a Lily Evans type of girl.

Boys had relationships with Lily Evans types of girls. They were the types of girls who were never too anything. Whilst Juliet was too confident, too insecure, too loud, too quiet, too trusting, too cynical, Lily was exactly enough. Lily had fire, but not too much. Lily had fun, but not too much. Lily had ambition, but not too much. And Juliet didn't resent the other girl for it because she simply wasn't made to blind boys with her beauty and radiate warmth.

In short, Juliet was not the sun.

"Come on," muttered James, taking her hand and inclining his head towards some loitering students.

Juliet followed him into the Gryffindor changing rooms, shaking off her brief lapse of vulnerability. "Am I allowed in here?"

     James snorted. "Do you really care?"

"I suppose not," she agreed. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Well, you said we can't be seen together."

     As if sensing she was on thin ice, she closed her eyes. "It's not like I'm embarrassed to be seen with you," the redhead assured him. "But not everyone will see things like we do. They won't see us, they will see our names and our social statuses. The pureblood and the blood traitor."

     "And you're still engaged," he added blankly.

     "It's more than that," she insisted. "If the wrong people learn that I care for you, it'll put you in danger and I can't have that on my conscience. You do a grand job of putting yourself in danger without my help."

     His eyes widened. "You care about me?"

     "Too much," she admitted, already knowing that was another strike against her. Once again, Juliet had done too much of something.

     Her answer made James falter. He waited for her to continue — impatience rising in him and making his usually steady hands shake.

     "Not that anyone needs to inflate your ego further, but I like you, James," she finally admitted, closing the distance between their bodies. "I feel like I'm high on liquid luck when I'm with you and you — you make things brighter for me. The first time we spoke this year, I told you that a war was brewing. The war I spoke about has only gotten closer since then and you are the only thing that has kept me centred in the light." Juliet lowered her head. "Without you, I would have become a dark witch."

     In short, Juliet was not the sun because James Potter was.

     "You wouldn't —"

     Juliet laughed dryly. "I would've! Not because I wanted to but because I would've been safe," she claimed. "Then you forced your way into my life and I hated every second of it but it made me realise there are far better things to be than safe!"

     Like happy, Juliet thought as indecision flittered across her features.

     Noticing her conflicted state of mind, he softly said, "Juli—"

     "Can you keep a secret?" whispered Juliet, overwhelmed with a sudden sense of urgency. "Please, James. You can't tell anyone, I mean it."

     Concerned, James nodded and began to run his hands through his hair. Juliet caught his wrist though, slowly moving his hand to her cheek. The girl found herself letting out a small gasp at how warm his hand was compared to the coldness of her cheek. James, on the other hand, was caught off guard and stumbled until his back was pressed against the wall.

     Their faces were inches apart, causing the hairs on the boy's neck to prickle when she repeated her question. "James, can you keep a secret? You need to say yes or no."

     "Ye—" James was cut off.

     Without fear or doubt, Juliet crashed her lips into his.

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A.N: ANDDDDD SIXTH YEAR IS OVER! So the secret love affair begins . . . I hope this was satisfying enough for you all. I had a lot of fun writing this one and Juliet being the one to make the move had me all sorts of excited. There's going to be plenty more romantic moments between those two in Seventh Year, so I couldn't resist leaving you there.

Question, what fictional death ruined you the most? In HP, definitely Fred. Outside of that, the deaths of Finnick Odair and Allison Argent RUINED me.