"dynamics and drunken thoughts"
June Twenty-Ninth, 1945
In Beauxbatons, Juliette was taught the six ecological relationships in her Magical Creatures classes.
There was Competition, where a minimum of two organisms would rely on a single source. Majority of the time, these relationships are deadly.
Mutualism was its counterpart, where both organisms benefited from each other.
Then there was Predation, which was the behaviour of one animal feeding on another.
Commensalism was where one animal benefited, whereas nothing bad happened to the other, but nothing good happened either.
Parasitism was the opposite, where one organism was harmed, and one was benefited.
Symbiosis was a relationship where two unlike organisms formed a mutually beneficial relationship.
So, what exactly was Juliette's role with the Death Eaters? More specifically, what was her role with a man like Preston? With Tom?
Upon leaving the manor, she chose to Apparate to Knockturn Alley, longing for any sense of familiarity. Her head spun as she stumbled down the alley, trying to keep herself hidden from whoever lurked around in the dark.
Juliette made her way to the front of The White Wyvern. Since it was a Friday, the place was quite crowded, despite the heavy storm clouds looming above the heads of everyone in London. Opening the door, she squeezed her way through the people, in desperate need of a drink. Miraculously, there was an empty seat in the corner of the bar.
"Is this seat taken?" Juliette nodded at the woman occupying the seat next to the empty one.
"By you," the woman smiled back, her teeth glowing in contrast to her dark skin.
Juliette sighed with relief, motioning the bartender over. "Thank God,"
"Are you Catholic?" The unnamed woman asked.
The blonde chuckled in response. "Furthest from, I'm afraid. I'm Pagan."
The woman hummed. "People are interesting, aren't they?" She asked rhetorically, taking a sip of her drink. "Here we are, two total strangers, discussing our hopes of the afterlife."
Juliette laughed again, as the woman's words perfectly described her and Tom. "You've got no idea. I'm Juliette."
"Like the tragedy?" The woman gasped.
Juliette nodded. "Like the tragedy." She repeated.
"How poetic. I'm Valentine Young."
"And you thought Juliette was poetic?" Juliette gaped. "Valentine is such a lovely name!"
"Friends call me Val," she shrugged, taking a sip of the drink in her hand.
"Why are you here alone, Val?"
"I caught my fiance with another woman." She shrugged once more, her gaze averting to the cup in her hands.
"That's... that's awful, I'm so sorry."
Val sighed, her shoulders dropping. In all honesty, she couldn't have been much older than Juliette, maybe in her late twenties. Juliette's heart twisted for her. She was so young, and here she was, heartbroken over one man.
"I suspected it for a while. I don't think Atticus was ever faithful- that's his name, Atticus. Atticus Vane."
"Then why were you with him for so long? I mean- you were with him long enough to get engaged, right?"
"Yes and no," Val said, taking another sip. "I knew from a young age my marriage would be arranged, but when they first caught word of my close friendship with him in Hogwarts, they jumped at the opportunity. He's pureblood and rich," she mocked, scoffing. "And my family was- well, is- desperate to stay at the top of the hierarchy. Of course, we'd never be up with the Mafloys or the Rosiers, but we're still pretty important."
"You know the Malfoys and the Rosiers?"
"Everyone does, I think. Well, I went to school with them. They were much younger than me, though. 'Brax was in his third year when I was in my sixth, and Rosier 's daughter was in her first year at the time. Why, do you know them?"
"You could say that, yes. I don't think Abraxas much cares for me."
"And how do you know them?" Val asked, her eyebrow raising, a twinkle now appearing in her eyes.
"I work in Knockturn Alley." She responded, knowing that revealing the real, full truth was practically suicide.
It was Val's turn to laugh. "What's a pretty young woman like you doing, working here?"
"I work for my family, Borgin and Burkes."
Val's brows creased in surprise. "Borgins? You work for them?"
"I'm Borgin's niece." She smiled sheepishly.
"How have I never seen you around before?"
"Well," Juliette started, as this was a conversation she has had before. "I'm from Lyon, over in France. I used to only live here in the summer, but now that I've graduated from Beauxbatons, I think I'll stay longer."
"That's divine," Val tilted her head. "Do you have a place to stay?"
Juliette nodded. "Corvina- oh, my aunt- set up lodgings for me. It's small, but it's all I need."
"I saw the store has been closed for a few days," Val nodded, hoping to ease her curiosity.
"Yes," Juliette lied quickly. "Family issues. The store should reopen tomorrow, though."
"Ah!" Val gasped. "Amazing. I saw The Starry Prophesier was beginning to gossip."
The blonde snorted. "Of course they were. They need any business they can get."
The Starry Prophesier was the small newspaper shop sandwiched between two different apothecaries in Knockturn Alley. In the past, business for the small news company fared well, but once the success got to the writers' heads, things went south. The Propheiser started openly discussing taboo sorts of witchcraft, which drove people away. Besides, the only newspaper around right now with credible information on both the muggle and Wizarding wars was The Daily Prophet, anyway.
Val sighed, setting her glass down. "It's nearing the midnight hour, is it not?"
Juliette opened her mouth and quickly closed it, as she was completely unaware of the time. She hadn't been aware of much since she put her wand to Tom's neck in Borgin & Burkes. "Is it?"
"Afraid so. I think I must be heading home."
"Pardon me if I overstep, but why do you feel the need to head home, considering..."
"Considering my fiance abandoning me?" She laughed slightly. "We all have our secrets... even the pretty ones." She nodded her head in warning, and Juliette felt her stomach churn.
However, she smiled. "C'est la vie, I suppose."
"Yes," Val smiled, standing up. "C'est la vie. I'm sure I'll see you again, Juliette. And, do me a favour, stay away from those Malfoys."
Juliette laughed slightly, trying to mask her fear. It was too late for that, she knew.
Watching Valentine Young leave the crowded bar, Juliette took a long sip of her drink. How is it that she felt like the side character in her own story?
Val was interesting. She was confident, pretty, and wise. Everything Juliette did not feel as though she were. Of course, she was told she was attractive on many occasions, but that didn't make her believe it. Even so, she wasn't pretty the way Val was. Val had eyes that carried sunlight in them, the brown a lovely honey colour. Her skin, on the other hand, collected moonlight, the darkness of her skin glowing in the moon's eerie rays.
She spoke with such glamour, even discussing things she didn't like, such as members of the Sacred 28. Juliette was never that poised, despite all her finishing lessons outside of Beauxbatons. She envied women like Val, where grace seemed to come so easy.
Maybe that was her fatal flaw, her deadly sin. While Tom was pride, and someone like Katerina and Atlas were holding lust close to their hearts, Juliette was the owner of envy, whether she realised it or not.
Yes, that was it. It was envy. Envy only on a physical level, because she was not like girls like Val, sure, but she was envious in many other ways. She was envious of everyone who knew Tom Riddle as the caring, determined, smart, and beautiful boy that he had appeared to be at school. She was envious that everyone in this bar was not a murderer, and weren't almost killed themselves less than a day ago. How they could just waltz in the bar, not indebted to anyone or held hostage by a psychopath.
Was this what she was to Tom? A hostage? It didn't appear as though she was a hostage. Hell, she was at her own free will right now. If she was a hostage, she wouldn't be able to be here. Preston said it himself. But somehow, in some way she felt binded to them, and even though Tom said once their business with Hepizbah was over she was free to never speak to them again, Juliette knew it was not true.
Because while her heart lurched at the idea of murder, and the atrocities they have yet to commit, her heart leapt at they way they seemed to care for her.
She thought of Eden, and the kindness she showed Juliette that day, sticking to her side and even translating for her.
She thought of Tom, and how even when he tried to harm her in one breath, he would hold his arms to steady her in the next. That was compassion, was it not?
She thought of Preston, and a shiver ran up her spine. How he talked to her, how he held her...
Juliette shook her head. It's the alcohol. The alcohol is poisoning your brain.
But drunk words were sober thoughts, were they not?
She sighed, pushing up from her chair and making her way out of the bar. She wanted to walk home while she was only slightly tipsy, not wanting to risk Wizarding travel intoxicated. Besides, she was exhausted. Sleeping away these thoughts would do her much good, and tomorrow, she would go to Borgin & Burkes, and act as if nothing ever happened. The end, right?
Meanwhile, on another side of town, the rain had already begun to fall.
Right now, nothing could be heard aside from the pitter-patter of the rain, the occasional car rolling by, and the clicking of a pair of heels on cobblestone.
Anastasia did not know why she insisted on walking tonight, or where her final destination was.
Of course, once the rain started she could've simply used magical means of travel- hell, she could've got in a car- but the cold rain hitting her skin and seeping into her hair seemed to be her glue to reality.
When she stepped outside her flat, her initial idea was to head to a bar, in the hopes that there would be another lonely soul interested in making the night less lonely. However, it never lasted, of course, and Anastasia was usually gone before her temporary lover had even woken up.
Perhaps that was why she had walked to Leman Street. After all, she knew her way there.
The steps to his door were narrow and uneven, but it never bothered her.
Of course, she'd only been here a handful of times, only last summer. She helped him move here, claiming she had time to spare and that none of her male counterparts understood interior design.
Not that he had much to his name, anyway. That orphanage treated him so cruelly, Anastasia's heart ached at the thought. Despite how cruel hearted Tom Riddle was, he was still a man. A man who used to be a boy, a boy that was thrown to the wolves and left for death.
She knocked. Once, twice, three times. And she waited, as she always did, shivering in the cold summer rain. Her heart pounded in anticipation and nerves.
The door swung open.
Both of them stopped mid movement.
"Anastasia?" Tom quirked a brow, however it wasn't his normal facade. It wasn't condescending or inquisitive. It was curiosity, and dare Anastasia say it- concern.
She could feel her chest rising and falling, her breathing becoming harder just from looking at him. He hadn't seen her this vulnerable in years, not since their school days perhaps. "May I come in?"
He paused, and she held her breath in waiting. Yes, she hoped he'd say. Come in, Anastasia.
But she knew that was not Tom. The Tom she knew would never explicitly say he cared- even if it was written all over his body language.
"What do you want? And why are you standing in the rain?"
Anastasia Lestrange dropped her head, laughing to herself in an emotion she couldn't determine. Was it frustration? "Tom, I'm shivering. Let me in."
His eyes flickered with realisation at her use of the word Tom, as she normally referred to him as Riddle, as did the rest of the Death Eaters. A slow smirk tugged at his lips. "And who's fault is that, hmm?"
He opened the door wider, silently allowing her in. When she walked past him, he silently casted a drying spell over her body. Her heart fluttered at the notion, however she knew he only did it so his furniture would not get wet.
The door shut, and a heavy silence enveloped them. However, Tom wasted no time.
Sneaking a hand around her waist, he turned her around to face him. Her smoky brown hair was frizzy, and Tom knew it was because her curls had fallen in the rain. He never understood why she felt the need to curl her hair everyday. He never really cared, either.
Their faces were inches apart. Tom clicked his tongue, "Anastasia... what are you doing here?"
"I think you know what I want." she whispered, her eyes frantically searching over their intertwined state.
"You are quite the high-maintenance person, Miss Lestrange. I think you're going to need to be more specific."
A beat. "I want you."
Tom groaned, tossing his head back. "Anastasia, we've already discussed-"
"No," she interrupted, pushing herself out of his poisonous hold. "We've discussed nothing. All you did was berate me."
"I could never love you, Anastasia. You know this."
Anastasia swallowed bitterly. "We are well past that, Tom."
"Oh, God, don't tell me-"
"I am not in love with you," she lied. "But what I feel for you is more than physical desire. I can't control it."
Tom shook his head, laughing at the notion. "I could never give you more than anything outside of that bedroom, and you know it. Don't be a fool."
"Yes, it is foolish. But I have not felt this way for anyone, ever. You see me as heartless, and deceitful and honestly, maybe you see me as a harlot- but Goddamn it, Riddle, I'd rather have some of you than none at all." She stopped herself, choking back a sob as she felt her voice crack. Silent tears slowly fell from her face, because why her?
Why did she have to fall for the one person who she could not have, when she could have any other man she wanted? Why did God- or perhaps, Satan himself- curse her with the task of loving the unlovable?
He paused, pondering over her words. "You are a fool." he repeated, stepping closer. "A beautiful, damned fool."
"Then I am yours. Your fool, then." she swallowed as he once again laced his arms around her body, flushing them together.
"Oh, Anastasia." He tsked. "You will never be mine."
While the words panged at her heart, a small part of her- the part that still held on to foolish hope- disregarded them as he leaned in right after, kissing her as he did times ago, slowly pushing her to the direction of his bedroom, shutting the door behind him once they reached it.
–
Juliette awoke with a start, her heart hammering in her chest as she wiped her unruly golden hair out of her face. It was a nightmare, nothing more. And Juliette was old enough to know that nightmares were only a figment of your imagination, as when you sleep your mind wanders to the furthest places it can, testing your morality- or lack of it.
However, this was no nightmare. This wasn't fake. It was real, and it happened the day before. It was played out like dramatic irony, as if she was sitting in a cinema, her heart racing as she knew what was going to happen, as her eyes watched her figure that was in Ms. Smith's house, seeing her own eyes widening from an outside perspective as she heard Tom utter her fate from his lips.
She could see it clearly now, in hindsight. The Death Eaters were nothing more than a cult, indoctrinated by their families and blindly following the man they choose to believe is their saviour. Their unholy Priest, his sermons laced with methamphetamine, like a spiked drink in a bar- you put the sweet taste to your lips, thinking you know what to expect. However...
Juliette shuddered at the thought, stepping out of bed despite the fact that it was still dark outside. Floating around her draughty apartment, her steps padding across the creaking wooden floor, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water, attempting yet again to gather her thoughts and prematurely cure the hangover that was deemed to come.
There she sat, staring out at the moon until moonset. Juliette never referred to the changes in the sky as sunrise or sunset, as she felt much more connected to the moon. To her, everything revolved around the moon and its phases. So when the moon set fully, she figured it was time to get ready, knowing she couldn't keep Borgin & Burkes closed for another day.
The weather today was average, unlike last night. Dressing casually, she headed out the door and began her descent towards Diagon Alley. Given that it was a Saturday, the cobblestone streets of London were bustling with people, despite the early hour. Juliette didn't mind- it was the Wizarding world that caused the trouble.
In truth, she loved observing the muggles. She was enthralled with their problem solving skills, and as a child she imagined that if she were a muggle, how she would solve problems without the use of magic.
As expected, Diagon Alley was packed with people, shoulder to shoulder. In contrast to her home in Lyon, no one spared her a smile or hello in Diagon Alley. Why would they? These people did not know Juliette Alderidge, and she doubted they ever will. As much as it pained the girl to even think it, the Death Eaters were the closest things she's ever made to friends here in London. It was quite a sad thought.
Juliette's spine shuddered at the thought of Riddle. With distance came clarity, and looking back, she realised how truly fucked everything was. All of them. Even Eden- as sweet as she seemed, she still willingly participated in a murder that was completely avoidable, and she has absolutely done so prior to the exchange in Liverpool.
The chill only increased when Juliette finally arrived at Borgin & Burkes- her usual coffee from Expresso Patronum in hand- to find the door already unlocked. Her heart instantly fell to her shoes, knowing that her aunts and uncles never arrive this early in the summer, saying it was Juliette's responsibility to get to the shop early, saving them trouble.
Riddle.
Swinging the door open, she stormed her way upstairs, knowing that's where he would most likely be.
Hearing her steps pound on the stairs, a smirk formed at his lips. However, he chose not to look up from his current reading, as he knew painfully little about Yugoslavia- though he would never admit it.
His smirk only grew when the frizzy haired blonde appeared in front of him, glaring over the chair in which he currently sat. "Get out."
"Depends." The boy sighed, his eyes still trained on the book in his hands. "Would I be paid for the time I worked today?"
She scoffed. "We haven't even opened the store. For the love of God, I'm not going to say it again, get out."
"As an employee, I'm afraid I have work to do."
"Yet here you sit, reading."
"This is work, Juliette. It just happens to not be for your establishment." He looked up finally, the smirk resting on his face still.
Her eyes widened in realisation, peering at the title. Before she could contain her anger, the words had already left her mouth. "Ut fortiter movere!" She yelled, and the book went flying from Tom's hands across the room, landing with a small thud.
At this, Tom stood to full height, towering over Juliette, who was mere inches from him. "Don't do that again." He seethed.
"In case you forgot, Riddle, this is my store."
"I do not like being disrespected."
"What are you going to do, Riddle?" Juliette heckled, biting back a laugh. "Will you try to kill me again, you bloodthirsty heathen?"
"I'm currently not in the mood for murder." He glared down at her. Juliette met his gaze with the same hatred, her breathing heavy from anger.
"I'm going to kill you one day, Riddle, and I'm going to enjoy it."
His laugh was sharp, his next words patronising. "I would love to see you try, darling. You wouldn't get far."
"You get off on underestimating me, don't you?" The blonde scoffed.
"So do it." He challenged, taking her jaw in his hand, bending his neck so their faces could meet. "Do it, just as I did to you, Juliette."
She shook her head. "No. Death for you would be salvation. It would be mercy. I am not merciful when it comes to you. I want to see you suffer, Tom Riddle."
"Darling, your inadequacy to meet my demands is suffrage enough." It was clockwork, how easily he lied.
"Spare me with your manipulation."
Tom clenched his jaw, thoroughly angry that she was able to pick up on it. "Saw through my lie that quickly? Perhaps I am losing my touch." Tom clicked his tongue.
"Get out of my store."
Now, Tom was angry. He took a deep breath, moving his hand from its tightening grip on her jaw to a tight hold around her neck. "I'm afraid I cannot do that, Juliette."
She sputtered, struggling to find air as he constricted her breathing. "Why is that?"
"I have to keep you close, Juliette. Don't you understand? You cannot just leave this life. You are forever mine."
Juliette rolled her eyes, trying to hide the twisted feeling in her gut. "How romantic."
"Save the rendezvous for Macnair, shall we?"
Her breathing halted, despite Tom removing his hand from her throat. He smirked again, triumphantly. "Did you think I wasn't aware? Did you really think I was dense enough to not see his stares? His movements? His mannerisms?"
"You know nothing."
"Oh, Juliette," he sighed, shaking his head. "I know everything. You forget, that Macnair will bow to me before he ever even answers your call."
The door opened downstairs, and the coworkers drew back from each other immediately, Juliette rushing downstairs.
"Oh, Corvina, Vivianne!"
The elder woman smiled at her, wrapping her in a hug. When she pulled back, her features turned stern. "And where have you two been?" She scolded the way any mother figure would, her eyes glancing up to Tom Riddle as well.
Juliette opened her mouth to lie, but her coworker beat her to it. "Researching something, Ms. Borgin. I do hope you don't mind."
"I would've liked a heads-up," she scoffed slightly.
"Sorry Corvina." Juliette's face flushed, and she looked towards the floor as if she were fifteen years old again.
"What exactly were you researching?" Vivianne smiled, lightening the mood.
Tom took a breath, moving from his spot on where he stood on the stairs. "We think we might have found something extraordinary."
Juliette quickly masked her confusion, smiling through her nerves. She nodded in fake-agreement.
"Do tell." Vivianne purred. "It better be important if it causes you to miss two days of work."
"Well," Tom started, a demonic smile playing at his adonic features. "We think we might have located Ms. Ravenclaw's lost diadem."
Corvina laughed bitterly. "You? That diadem has been lost for centuries, my dears. There is simply no logical way you've found it."
Tom kept his composure, although Juliette knew he was internally seething at Corvina's condensation. "I have friends in high places." he shrugged.
"Like who?" Juliette's aunt pressed on.
"Actaeus and Rhodope Malfoy. I am a close friend of their son, Abraxas."
Both elder women raised their eyes, impressed.
The Malfoy line always had money, it seemed. The family was one of the richest in London, let alone the Wizarding World. Rumours trailed them like shadows, however the head man of the house- in this case Actaeus- seemed to shut them down with the snap of his fingers.
"Schoolmates, I assume?" Corvina prodded.
Tom nodded. "Indeed."
"So why did you miss work then, Juliette?" her aunt turned her attention to her niece, still needing to be convinced.
The blonde smiled sheepishly. "La curiosité a tué le chat, je suppose."
Corvina and Vivianne both pursed their lips.
"Just be glad it was us who noticed and spoke to you first, and not our husbands." Vivianne pointed an accusatory figure at the two, before sighing and following Corvina upstairs.
Tom glared at Juliette. "Are they always like this?"
Juliette teetered her head back and forth. "More or less, yes."
"Fuck," Tom cursed under his breath.
"Why?" Juliette continued.
"Because, I plan on leaving for Yugoslavia in two days' time." He sighed, running a hand through his hair, subconsciously tugging at his roots.
Juliette scoffed, her mouth gaping. "When did you plan on telling me?"
"I found out last night from Trave- Xavier."
For some reason, he knew it best to lie to her. He knew it was easier to tell her that Travers gave him the information, rather than telling her Anastasia told him during the cigarette after. His day was already bad enough, and ridicule from Juliette about his romantic relations was not something he needed.
"Who's accompanying us?"
"Everyone." Tom shrugged. "Either way, we leave in two days. If you are not ready, I will tell you right now I do not care, and I will drag you from your apartment by your hair if you even consider backing out."
He didn't wait for her response, knowing she knew better to respond, before storming behind the counter, hiding away in the back room.