(11 : BUT YOU SHALL. . .
BEAR THE BURDEN)

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     CHRISTMAS WITH THE FAWLEYS COULD usually be summed up as oppressive. No matter how hard she tried, Juliet was always doing something wrong — her smile wasn't wide enough, her hair wasn't neat enough, she was never enough for her parents — but the teenager found her break to be oddly quiet that year. The Fawley patriarch was constantly attending meetings and her mother seemed more resigned than Juliet had ever known, only showing up at mealtimes. 

     Whilst Juliet appreciated the change in pace, it made for quite a droll few weeks. She almost wished she had brought some muggle books to keep her entertained, but anything that could be deemed traitorous had been left back in her dorm. Her sense of normalcy eventually came on Christmas Eve when she was reminded of the annual Malfoy Ball. 

"Ah, there's my girl," called her father when she descended down the stairs.

Even if his affections were false, Juliet preened. The teenager was still figuring out who she was, but she loved certain elements of the pureblood lifestyle. Her family had galleons upon galleons, so it was no secret that she took pride in her own appearance and liked spending frivolous amounts of money on gowns. Juliet wanted to be treated like a princess, so that was how she treated herself. For the Malfoy Ball, she wore a silver gown that glimmered like stardust with her every move.

"Where's Mother?" inquired Juliet.

"She won't be coming with us tonight," the older man replied in his typical no nonsense manner. "Now, grab my arm. Abraxas mentioned some reporters from The Daily Prophet were invited, perhaps you can find Regulus and . . . network. The Dark Lord has big plans soon, so your engagement announcement is imminent."

Ever the obedient daughter, Juliet nodded and clutched the man's arm, ready to apparate to Malfoy Manor.

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      Idle chatter, idle minds. For all that Juliet loved dressing up, pureblood parties were only good for their open bar. It was an unwritten rule that anything of substance couldn't be discussed at such events — at least not by the women. All her conversations were vapid and shallow, but they were also filled with hidden meanings and sly insults. Somehow, she doubted that Peony Parkinson truly thought it was 'adorable' that boys weren't deterred by the fact Juliet had gained five pounds since Narcissa's engagement party.

     The redhead didn't hold the insult against the woman, instead finishing the rest of her champagne in one gulp. After a drunken tirade two summers back, it was well known that the Parkinsons were struggling to find an acceptable match for their eldest. Apparently men no longer found a woman desirable after they watched her drunkenly curse out Lucius Malfoy and regurgitate the evening's hors d'oeuvres onto an obscenely expensive rug.

     "May I have the dance?"

A tap on Juliet's shoulder made her breathe a sigh of relief — an escape from the backhanded compliments of Peony Parkinson at last — until she registered who was extending their hand.

Regulus Black, of course.

"I don't particularly want to dance with you, so . . . no." As she tilted her chin up higher, she kept her voice low. Although she could understand where Regulus had been coming from, she couldn't forgive his blasé attitude to the death of a child.

"Oh no!" cried Peony. "You can't say no to a prospective suitor, my dear. That's simply bad manners. Not to mention when you're as haggard as I —"

"You're nineteen."

"— No man will want you." Peony had succeeded in attracting the attention of the entire ballroom and the space was blanketed in a heavy silence. "Regulus is a fine man, too young for a spinster such as I, but well-endowed and you should be lucky to have such a partner."

Arching an eyebrow, Regulus looked at his fiancée in a smug manner. "Your words mortally wounded me, Juliet. Please dance with me."

All eyes were now on the three of them, the guests were clearly hungry for gossip.

Juliet slapped her fellow Slytherin's arm. Hard. "You're such a joker, Reggie," she giggled. "Honestly, Peony! It was an inside joke. Have you been living under a rock? Reggie and I have had an arrangement for months now."

Chatter slowly started back up again and Peony flushed bright red as she watched Regulus lead Juliet to dance. Yet another tally against the desirability of Peony Parkinson . . .

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Both Juliet and Regulus were excellent dancers. Probably since she could walk, Juliet had taken dance lessons, so it wasn't a challenge for her to follow the steps without so much as glancing at her partner. Instead, she took in the ostentatious decor of Malfoy Manor — the high ceilings, the marble floors, the chandeliers — and found her eyes locking with a glacier cold pair from the other side of the ballroom.

Nursing a glass of scotch, twenty year old Lucius Malfoy stood alone in a dark corner. Since Narcissa was occupied making the social rounds and Abraxas insisted he was too old for the festivities, Lucius was free to observe everyone without consequence.

Under his scrutiny, Juliet shivered.

"Something wrong?" Regulus questioned, having noticed her change in demeanour.

Shaking her head, she mocked, "Only that I'm dancing with you."

"A little gratitude would be nice."

"For what?"

Regulus inclined his head towards where Peony was swooning amongst a new gaggle of girls. "For saving you from the harpies."

"Thank you so much," Juliet drawled sarcastically. "You're a real white knight."

     "What is wrong with you?" Regulus finally snapped through gritted teeth. "You're acting impertinent and like — like my brother used to. I am well aware that you are not happy with me or how we left things, but you know better than anyone that there are certain expectations of us as heirs. You should also know better than to deny a suitor, or to be necking alcohol like something common."

     Although it may begrudge her, Juliet could confess that she had slipped up recently. It had been a few years since she wholly believed the things her family whispered into her ear, but she had always known that upholding her ruthless reputation was the closest she could get to a safety net. However, since starting her sixth year, she had found a lot of thoughts and feelings amounting inside of her — why did anyone care about something they couldn't see, like blood, when a mad man was murdering before their eyes? It was absurd to the point it was becoming harder and harder to bite her tongue when — as Regulus claimed — she knew better.

    "Nobody here is a stranger to pureblood politics," she said conversationally. "They can all guess that we don't really love each other and that our romance was constructed for one of two reasons: power, or to subdue the ignorant fools that thrive on the gossip of pureblood society pages."

     Spinning her around, Regulus countered, "That may be, but now is not the time for rebellion."

    Juliet disagreed, now was exactly the time for rebellion.

    Exasperated, the girl blew out a breath. "It's not like I'm trying to be difficult. But I've come to realise, if we stay trapped in this ivory tower, we'll be the casualties when it's burned to the ground." There was no urgency in her tone, only stoic acceptance. "We can't assume we'll be safe because we're pureblood. Will your Dark Lord ever be satisfied? Or will he collect bodies like trophies until the Wizarding World is in ruins? What if he decides the Sacred Twenty-Eight are below him too?"

    Undoubtedly, the sharpest thing about Juliet was her survival instinct. She liked the Wizarding World plenty as it was. Everyone knew their place. Bending to Voldemort's reign didn't give her the same insurance policy she currently had.

     "Your tongue is far too loose around me," he cautioned. "You trust too easily."

    She laughed. "I don't trust you. I pity you. By telling you all this, I hope you make better choices before it's too late."

    The dance promptly ended. Not in the mood to be forced into another, Juliet took a step away from her partner, only to be pulled back into his chest at the last second. To the crowd, it appeared to be an endearing gesture, a scandalous secret shared between two hormonal teenagers as Regulus' lips brushed her ear. To Juliet, it was a warning she would regret ignoring.

    "You really do need to be more careful. Trust that, if not anything else I say or do." Regulus' hold on her was more desperate than threatening. "You seem to have a bad habit for damaging a man's pride, I worry it will come back to bite you one day." With a practiced sensibility, the youngest Black recoiled and bowed, kissing her hand. "Thank you for such a wonderful dance, Miss Fawley."

     Mulling over his words, Juliet ducked her head, pretending to blush before stumbling away for some fresh air.

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Regardless of how many times she visited Malfoy Manor, Juliet had yet to find a viable escape route other than the front door. Since that wasn't an option, she settled for the next best thing to fresh air — privacy. Most of the rooms were locked for the night, but Juliet decided to test her luck. She walked along the ground floor corridor, testing doorknobs and variations of 'alohomora' until she found an open room.

Abraxas' study.

Her eyebrows furrowed in thought, believing this to be a room that would be of the highest priority to be kept safe from lustful couples or prying individuals. However, she soon found her reason when she entered and found Lucius sat with his feet up on the desk, twirling his wand. He didn't even look up at her unexpected arrival.

"Lucius? What are you doing here?"

The blonde smirked. "Waiting for you."

Confused, she tightened her grip on her wand and started to back away at the sinister note in his voice. Her back hit the door as it magically slammed behind her and the teenager was overcome with an uneasiness that she had never associated with the man until hours before. Lucius, for all his questionable views, had always been kind to her — welcoming even. Albeit, she probably shattered whatever friendship they had when she knocked him unconscious in Hogsmeade.

"How did you know I would come here?"

"Doesn't matter." Lucius pushed up from the desk, stalking towards her. "I believe we have some unfinished business."

"I don't think we do."

Perusing her tiny frame, Lucius trapped the redhead in his arms. "You have the option to rethink," he offered. "You humiliated me and that doesn't come without consequences. I would hate to tell your father, or even the Dark Lord, about your insolence in Hogsmeade."

Juliet knew Lucius wouldn't tell a soul. If he told anyone he was bested by a teenage witch half his size, he would be viewed as incompetent by his precious Dark Lord. After all, Juliet had been relying on his own ego to protect her from any backlash she may have received for helping students during the attack. One thing Juliet hadn't anticipated was Lucius holding a grudge.

"My answer hasn't changed," her voice cracked.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, the girl — for she was a girl — didn't even register the man prying her wand from her death grip. Nor did she register his skeleton touch before it was already brushing past layers of silk and taffeta, inching further and further up her thigh.

"Shame," he tutted, moving his spare hand to her cheek. "Still, be a good girl for me. Mulciber's told me all about your . . . skills . . . with a wand."

With an animalistic aggression, Lucius' lips attacked hers, awaking the teenager from her paralysis. Even with his lips smothering hers, she attempted to scream, but a swift 'silencio' cut off her cries. Without her wand or her voice, she was helpless, feeling like a pin up doll as he tugged at her hair and pulled at the lace bodice of her gown.

Suddenly she remembered a drunk Peony Parkinson slapping Lucius and wondered if he had done the same thing to her.

The reminder of Peony sparked something in her, causing the redhead to ball up her fist and punch Lucius square in the jaw. From the shock, he stumbled back and Juliet seized her opening. With the door locked, she immediately rushed for the large windows behind the desk and was overwhelmed with gratitude that they were on the ground floor. Just as she was about to squeeze through, she felt a yank on her dress.

"You bitch," snarled Lucius.

Running on only adrenaline, Juliet used her heels to her advantage and frantically kicked him in the stomach. He winced and she tumbled out of the window, falling just in time to dodge a blast of red light. With uneven breathing, she stayed squatted below the window ledge and was relieved to find out Lucius didn't intend to chase her. Yet, that didn't leave her any better off without a wand.

Left with no other choice, she stumbled into the darkness and hailed down a muggle taxi once she found the main road, reciting the address of Potter Manor. The elderly driver was so horrorstruck by the state of the women, he didn't even question why she wanted him to drive all the way to Devon.

Hours later, she was knocking on James Potter's door in a torn ball gown with smudged lipstick and mascara streaking down her face.

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A.N: This was a heavy chapter, but this book will absolutely not shy away from the reality of war. Men with power like Lucius would absolutely take advantage of girls like Juliet, especially when they feel embarrassed by them. I'm going to move all TWs to the first chapter as I now have a much clearer plan for this book when I first started. Next chapter will be much happier, I promise! It's Christmas with the Potters. As always, votes and comments are appreciated. And once again, this chapter still needs to be proof read (which I'll do tomorrow!) but inspiration has a habit of coming before I want to sleep.

Side note, if anyone has any Mauraders recs, please drop them in the comments. I feel I've been through all the well written ones, so suggestions (maybe more recent ones?) are appreciated. Sirius, James or Remus are my usual preferences, but I'm open to others.