(60 : THESE VIOLENT DELIGHTS . . .
HAVE VIOLENT ENDS)

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     JULIET'S WORLD FELL APART ON a Saturday. It was then — more than a year after she had last even seen James — that she received an owl that changed everything, the creature swooping in with such urgency that it knocked her wine glass to the floor. Absentmindedly, she thought about how furious Sirius would be when he noticed the blood red stain on his cream carpet as she tore into the letter that was ominously addressed to 'J.'

Her eyebrows knitted together when she found the letter was blank. As she turned the parchment over in her hands, she debated if it was one of Sirius' pranks. Not that he was ever around much anymore. Since Sirius was always at Order meetings and Regulus had to keep up appearances with the Death Eaters, Juliet's days typically consisted of drinking until dark, all by herself. It actually made her long for something to subdue her crippling loneliness — even something as utterly childish as a practical joke. Yet, the war was ruthless and seemed to take a toll on the strongest of friends, meaning humour was usually few and far between.

"Aparecium," she thoughtfully muttered, tapping her wand against the parchment.

For a moment, the parchment shimmered white and then two words in the familiar handwriting of Regulus Black revealed themselves. It simply read:

'Potter. Tonight.'

Fear punctured her heart like a gunshot, wholly unexpected. It had been so long since they went into hiding that she — stupidly — believed they were safe. Grateful as she was that Regulus had kept his promise, there was an uncomfortable sinking feeling in her gut as she realised there was nothing she could do without the location of the Potters. If they were under the Fidelius Charm, hope was lost and fate was cruel.

     Juliet didn't even notice she was sobbing until the ink from the parchment had started to run, staining her fingertips black, black like James Potter's fate. Of course she couldn't change anything because she was a nobody in the war. A face amongst the forgotten and a spineless child, Juliet Fawley was never the type to change the world.

      On occasion, James made her feel like she could. Like her existence mattered in the grand scheme of things. More tears splattered against the parchment and something akin to guilt wrapped itself around her heart like a noose. She knew him, she knew him better than she knew herself, so why didn't she know where he would hide? In a desperate action, she combed through her memories in search of a hint, a clue, anything that would lead her to him. Then, the memory of their first date in the snow set her mind ablaze and a small gasp burst from the base of her throat.

     "It felt like this place was a whole other world entrapped in a tiny little snow globe, one that was protected from the war outside. As long as we're here, we're untouchable, Julie."

     It was risk — a calculated one — but a risk all the same. And Juliet had never been the reckless type, especially when there was no guarantee that she was right and James, Lily and Harry were living in Godric's Hollow. Even if they were, she wouldn't be able to see where they were without the permission of their Secret Keeper. All she could do was find Voldemort before he found them.

     Throwing caution to the wind, she clamped her eyes shut and embraced the twisting feeling of apparation.

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Blood. There was so much blood. It mixed into the rainwater, leaving a trail in her wake as she limped along the cobblestone street with her hand pressed to her side. In her rush, Juliet had splinched herself, but she didn't so much as wince or whimper as she charged ahead, determined. Years later, this scene would become one of the many fables of Godric's Hollow — the tale of a woman who wandered the streets each night in search of her lover, drenched in blood. Until then, she was just Juliet, the girl who had only ever wanted to survive.

     In the distance, she made out a suspicious figure that almost blended in with the darkness of the night. Swathed in robes of obsidian, he looked like the Grim Reaper, but there was no doubt in her mind it was Lord Voldemort. His movements were oddly graceful, making it seem like he was floating towards an area of extreme overgrowth. Perhaps the wild flowers and impossibly tall blades of grass would've fooled her had she not stood in the same spot as a teenager and fantasised about living in a beautiful cottage that she could no longer see.

Her wound throbbed, but she ignored the ache in her side as she broke out into a run. The wind whistled, low and mocking as she pointed her wand at the wizard's back and yelled, "Avada —"

Before she could finish the spell, her wand was violently thrown from her hand by a magical force and she was hunched over in seconds, breathing heavily. The Dark Lord sharply turned around to face his attacker and hissed in furious recognition, "You're supposed to be dead."

"I thought my father warned you," she said between gritted teeth, "I'm not very good at doing what I'm supposed to."

"What a disappointment you turned out to be," murmured the Dark Lord, his cruel red eyes looking her up and down in disgust. "You had the potential to be great, Juliet. Is this really the hill you wish to die on? In the futile defence of a mudblood, a blood traitor and their pathetic spawn?"

Not daring to check where her wand had landed, Juliet struggled to swallow the lump in her throat. Never in her life had she been religious, but she was suddenly praying that Lily and James had heard the commotion, that her presence there had bought them a few crucial minutes to prepare. As soon as she had abandoned the safety of the apartment for Godric's Hollow, she resigned herself to the fact that her death was a possibility and now she could only hope it wouldn't be in vain. Faithless and wandless, she really had little to show for her final moments.

     A part of wished she could say that she felt no fear, that she was strong and brave until the very end. Instead, her face was drained of all colour as she trembled, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks the entire time. But, for all her terror, the spark of rebellion in her blue eyes never flickered, never faltered, never faded.

     Lord Voldemort bowed down to her level, matching her height as he wiped the tears from her cheeks. His mouth curved into a sadistic smile and he pressed, "Any last words?"

In the background, a door banged, hurried footsteps squelched against the grass and there was a hysterical shout muffled by the downpour.

"Fuck those Death Eaters," Juliet spat harshly, looking heavenwards and smiling in the face of death, "and fuck you."

Unrestrained anger broke through the Dark Lord's features. He took one step back, bared his teeth and bellowed, "Avada —"

Before Juliet could even blink, a body was hurtling in front of her own. It happened too fast, a screech of protest came unbidden from her throat, but it was too late. Arms spread wide, James Potter had fled the boundaries of his home and dove in front of her like he was reliving his glory days as a Gryffindor chaser. Neither Voldemort or Juliet had time to process the interruption, the blast of green light already exploding from the tip of his wand.

"Julie, I —" James Potter's final, rushed words were left unspoken.

"—Kedavra."

James' body slumped backwards into Juliet's arms, the sudden weight bringing the startled redhead to her knees. An inhuman sound pierced the air — one that she barely knew to belong to her — as his neck twisted at a funny angle when his head was jerked into her lap mid-fall. Her hands — which were bright blue from the bitter cold — subconsciously found themselves tangled in his curls as if it was possible to soothe the dead. The same hazel eyes that had once twinkled every time they caught her gaze now stared up at her, wide and unseeing. The same lips that she had once passionately kissed in broom closets and secluded train compartments were permanently parted. And the same boy — the only boy — she had ever allowed herself to love laid there motionless and broke her heart effortlessly, yet again.

     "James. James. Jamie!" cried Juliet, one hand stroking his cheek. "You — you wanker! You left me. You can't do that, I can't do this without you. I — I need you. Please."

Expressionless, Voldemort slowly approached the grieving girl. "As touching as this all is, I must make haste as the boy is still to be dealt with," the snake-like wizard sneered, pointing his wand at her chest. "You have defeated death once before, a feat that is equal to only I, but never again, child. Avada kedavra!"

The Killing Curse hurtled towards her and she — instinctively — lifted her arm in front of her wide eyes as if to shield them from the blinding light. An excruciating burning sensation prickled against her wrist when the spell first made contact with her skin and a high, cold laugh seemed to reverberate in the darkest constraints of her mind, then . . . nothing. Autumn leaves rustled around her, the rain remained unrelenting and — somehow — she had survived.

Incredulous, she snapped her head up and discovered Lord Voldemort was gone. Like he had never been there at all. Perhaps the only reason she believed she wasn't on the brink of insanity was the soreness in her wrist. Under the glow of the moonlight, she held her injured wrist up and squinted at the sight of an unfamiliar scar. Still fresh, it was blistering and — most peculiarly — jaggedly shaped like a lightning bolt.

     Marked as his equal, she had changed fate. Maybe for the worse.

"Thank you, James. For everything." As she carefully went to close his eyes, her soft, stilted whisper was lost to the night. "I must be gone and live, or stay and die. And I have to live. For Lily and Harry. I'm so sorry."

Not being able stare at his corpse any longer, Juliet rose to her full height once again and brushed herself down. Her wet clothes clung to her body and she shivered, only taking half a step before her knees buckled under the pressure and another sob was wrenched from her throat, raw and guttural. Within seconds, she had come undone once more. From beyond the barriers of the charm, Lily Evans peered out of her son's bedroom window and pitied the sorrowful sight.

Nobody would ever know what Juliet lost that night. Nobody would ever know the role she played in the end of the war. Rather, they would celebrate the miracle baby that escaped a notorious evil wizard without a scratch, they would speculate over the heroics of the father after he presumably ran to his death and they would revere the mother that was tortured to insanity a mere two days later, right before she could speak the family's truth.

     As for Juliet, Juliet's world fell apart on a Saturday and all of her days after that were devoted to piecing it back together.

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A.N: I'm too sad right now to say much, so give me a few days to pull myself together because there's still an epilogue. This definitely needs a proper edit but I'm not even kidding when I say I'm a mess after writing this, so I'll have to check it over when I'm more emotionally stable. Song recommendation for this chapter is 'Lover of Mine' by 5SOS because it reminds me of Juliet and James.

There are alternate endings though, don't worry! I have a lot of ideas, but nothing is written yet, so this is your chance to make any suggestions for what you would like to see.

Question, do you hate me right now? Okay . . . real question, do you have a song that you think fits James and Juliet? I'm curious.