Astronomy II
Draco had stormed out of the common room, pushing past a sea of drunk and loud Slytherins, his patience hanging by a thread. Another one of Juliet's blasted parties, another night where he couldn't find any peace. He hated how she turned every weekend into some spectacle, forcing everyone into her orbit whether they wanted it or not. It was like she had to remind everyone that she was the queen of Hogwarts. But more than anything, he hated how she'd stolen his only refuge—the Astronomy Tower.
As he trudged up the stairs, the distant music faded, replaced by the quiet hum of the night. He reached the door of the tower, already feeling the tension in his chest starting to ease. But the moment he stepped inside, his shoulders tensed again.
There she was. Again.
Juliet Van Der Hart sat slumped against the stone wall, her blonde hair tangled and her clothes disheveled. The remnants of three empty bottles were scattered at her feet, and she was halfway through a fourth one, swaying slightly as she raised it to her lips. Tears streaked her face, though she seemed too far gone to even realize she was crying.
Draco felt a surge of irritation. He couldn't even escape her here. Of all the places she could have gone, she had to be here, taking up his space again. And she was drunk. Completely out of it. He watched her for a moment, expecting the usual snarky comment or haughty glance when she noticed him, but there was nothing. Just the empty sound of her shallow breaths as she took another shaky sip.
"Juliet," he said sharply, stepping forward, "what the hell are you doing?"
She didn't respond. Didn't even glance his way. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, like she wasn't even aware he was there. She mumbled something incoherent, her voice slurring beyond recognition.
Draco's frustration grew. "Can't even throw your own bloody party properly without—"
He stopped mid-sentence as he looked at her again. This wasn't like the other times. She wasn't playing some careless party girl routine. She was completely out of it. Gone. He realized she didn't even understand him.
Her hand shook as she tried to lift the bottle again, but it slipped from her grip, clattering to the floor. The sound echoed through the tower, but Juliet didn't react. She was staring straight ahead, her eyes wide and empty, as if the world around her had ceased to exist.
Draco's anger faltered, replaced by an odd mixture of unease and pity. He'd seen her like this before — drunk, high, whatever she'd gotten into — but never this bad. This wasn't the sharp-tongued, arrogant Juliet he knew. This was someone else entirely. A mess. Broken.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell."
Kneeling down beside her, Draco gingerly reached for her arm. She didn't resist as he pulled the bottle from her hand, placing it beside the others. Her head lolled to the side, her gaze flickering towards him for just a moment before her eyes glazed over again. She was far too gone to even know who he was.
Draco glanced at the door, knowing the party was still raging downstairs. The last thing she needed was to stumble back into the common room in this state, where everyone would see her like this. He wasn't about to drag her through that mess.
"Come on, Juliet," he muttered under his breath, pulling her arm over his shoulder. She was barely conscious, her body limp as he shifted her weight against him.
For a second, she stirred, muttering something that sounded vaguely like, "Leave me alone," but it was too faint to make sense of. Her head rested against his shoulder, her hair brushing his cheek as she slumped into him. She was heavier than she looked, and the smell of alcohol clung to her like a fog.
Draco sighed, sitting down against the cold stone floor, letting her rest against him. He glanced down at her tear-streaked face, her breathing shallow and uneven. He'd never seen her like this before — completely defeated, lost in whatever world she was drowning in.
He wasn't sure how long they sat there in silence, the distant thrum of the party below barely reaching them. Draco's irritation had ebbed away, replaced by an odd, reluctant sympathy. She looked so small like this. So fragile. It was strange to think that the girl who threw wild parties, who commanded the attention of everyone around her, could be reduced to this.
Eventually, her breathing slowed, becoming deeper, more regular. She had passed out, her head still resting on his shoulder. Draco shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to do next. He wasn't about to drag her back to the common room like this. That would cause more chaos than it was worth.
He looked down at her again, his chest tightening with something he couldn't quite identify. There was a part of him that hated her — hated the way she flaunted her privilege, the way she lived like nothing could touch her. But another part of him... a part he rarely acknowledged... felt something else. Something closer to pity. Maybe even understanding.
Sighing, Draco leaned his head back against the cold stone wall, staring up at the night sky through the open archways of the tower. The stars were clearer up here, undisturbed by the noise and chaos of the party below.
For a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.