Huffleduckling
"—I sent him a letter, but he didn't respond! It's like I don't even matter to him anymore!" yelled Daphne Greengrass to Juliet Van Der Hart, who'd been chasing 97% liquor with 40% liquor. It had become a game as the years passed, attempting to beat older records. Tonight, she planned to make it to three and a half bottles to break a record.
Last year, she'd drank three bottles to herself and would only be able to sip out of the fourth one before she puked it all out. But her luck never seemed to end, and she'd been toying with her tolerance for a long time since. She was bound to make it to half of her fourth bottle this time. So far, she was on her third.
The night was in full swing as Pansy's party roared in the Slytherin common room. Juliet's incident, as Pansy liked to call it when someone would ask about what happened yesterday, had been completely forgotten. Nobody tip-toed around Juliet when it came to parties. She invented drinking to cure a hangover in the morning at Hogwarts — she was unstoppable.
Cedric Diggory, the only non-Slytherin invited, stood near the edge of the room, trying to adjust to the scene. It wasn't that he hadn't been to parties before, but this... this was different. It seemed as though he was the only one who remembered Juliet's near-fatal condition yesterday when he'd found her strung out on bloody ecstasies. And nobody was the least bit concerned that the very next day, Juliet was back on her party ritual.
He had watched as Juliet downed her second bottle of liquor in one go, the crowd around her barely batting an eye. What might have shocked others was nothing new here. Her behavior had clearly become an expectation, an identity that she embodied. But Cedric had never seen anything like it. That amount of tolerance was uncanny — sinister. In no world should a 14-year-old have that tolerance.
While the other Slytherins cheered her on or ignored her, Cedric's gaze remained fixed on her. He'd heard the rumors, whispers about her issues with partying from every house except Slytherin, but seeing it firsthand was different. There was something reckless about the way she partied, like she was teetering on the edge of something dangerous, tip-toeing right at the line of death. He'd decided he couldn't just stand there.
Moving through the crowd, Cedric found himself next to Pansy, who was in the middle of laughing with Blaise. He leaned in, voice low, but laced with concern. "Is she always like this?"
Pansy gave him a casual look, brushing off his worry like it was nothing. "Oh, that's just Juliet. She's fine. She does this every day. Don't worry, she's got it under control."
Cedric frowned. "Under control? That's her third bottle of liquor, Pansy."
"Yeah, well, Juliet's a professional." Pansy shrugged, clearly uninterested in discussing Juliet's habits. "Come on, Diggory, you're supposed to be the guest of honor tonight. Live a little. Don't worry about her. She's a big girl."
But Cedric couldn't shake the unease settling in his chest. Pansy's dismissal only made it worse, like Juliet's behavior was an open secret everyone accepted. Maybe that's what worried him the most — how normal this seemed to everyone around her. So, he took it upon himself to step in.
He made his way over to Juliet, who was laughing hysterically at something one of the other ditzy Slytherins said, her balance swaying dangerously. Without hesitation, Cedric grabbed the bottle from her hand.
"Hey!" Juliet protested, her voice slurring slightly as she tried to snatch it back.
"You've had enough," Cedric said firmly, keeping the bottle out of reach. "You need to sober up."
Juliet blinked at him, confusion flashing across her face. "What? You're no fun," she muttered, stumbling a little. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not," Cedric replied, his voice gentle but unyielding. "Come on, let's get you to your room."
Just as Cedric was about to lead Juliet up to her room, Draco Malfoy strode over, his usual smirk plastered on his face. "Diggory, what are you playing at?" he sneered. "Let me guess — you're trying to play the hero now, just like all the others."
Cedric stopped, confused by the sudden confrontation. "I'm just trying to help her," he said, his tone even.
"Help her?" Draco let out a sarcastic laugh. "Right. Just like every other guy who wants to help Juliet. I'm sure your intentions are entirely pure." He leaned in, his voice dripping with condescension and casting him an unsubtle wink. "But we both know how this ends. It doesn't take much, after all, to get her into bed."
Juliet froze at Draco's words, a flash of hurt crossing her face. "What the hell is your problem, Malfoy?" she slurred, glaring at him. "I don't need your stupid opinions."
"I don't have a problem," Draco shot back, his voice colder than usual. "I just thought I should let the new boy know that all he has to do is look at you and your legs are spread. He doesn't need to be putting in more work than the reward is worth."
Cedric stepped in between them, his voice calm but firm. "That's enough, Malfoy. I'm not here to argue with you. I just want to make sure she's okay."
Draco scoffed, stepping back. "Good luck with that," he muttered, casting one last glance at Juliet before turning on his heel and storming out of the room, but not before hissing toward Juliet, "Trainwreck."
Juliet, still reeling from Draco's harsh words, sank onto a nearby couch, her head spinning not just from the alcohol, but from the sting of Draco's insult. Cedric sat beside her, his expression sympathetic.
"Don't listen to him," Cedric said softly. "You're not a trainwreck. You just... you need to take care of yourself better."
Juliet looked at him, her eyes swimming with emotion she couldn't quite place. For once, she didn't have a snappy retort or a flirty comeback. Instead, she just nodded, her chest heavy with a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and something else — something much harder to pin down.
Cedric flopped a pillow over his lap for Juliet to rest her head on, and once she did, he admired her face. He'd seen her growing up — magazines, news articles, talks and gossips. She was born famous. He couldn't believe that the same girl who was the cover in the magazine for It Girl of the Year for three years in a row was laying her pretty head on his lap. But he would never deny her right to do so.