Man Down
That night, as the fire crackled softly in the common room, Juliet did what Juliet did best — she brought alochol to the date. Draco and Juliet sat close, the haze of alcohol making everything feel warmer, fuzzier, more intimate. The tension that had always lingered between them had shifted into something new — something intoxicating and dangerous. Juliet was lounging beside him, her head tilted back slightly as she sipped on another drink, her laughter light and careless as she talked about something Draco hadn't been fully paying attention to.
But he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. There was something about the way the dim firelight flickered across her face, the way her lips curled into that knowing smile, like she held all the secrets of the world and no one could touch her. It was maddening, how she could be so beautiful, so unattainable, and yet here she was, right next to him, close enough to touch.
He'd always wondered what guys saw in her. Sure, she was pretty, but he'd always found her behaviour repulsive. But now, being with her, even at her tipsy state, he completely understood the fascination.
Juliet leaned in, her hand brushing against Draco's arm, sending a jolt through him. "You're awfully quiet tonight, Malfoy," she teased, her voice low, almost sultry.
Draco smirked, though his mind was far from settled. "Just listening."
"To what?"
"To you," he said.
She laughed, a carefree sound that made his stomach twist. She was always laughing. Always smiling. But was any of it real?
"Come on, Malfoy," Juliet said, taking another sip of her drink, her gaze sharp and playful. "I know you're dying to ask me something. What's on your mind?"
Draco hesitated. His thoughts had been swirling since earlier, ever since they started talking — really talking. Juliet had always been a mystery to him, and tonight was no different. But as the drinks kept coming, as their bodies got closer, as their touches lingered, Draco couldn't help but wonder... Was this all she was?
"How many people have you slept with?" The question slipped out before he could stop it, and for a moment, he regretted it. It sounded pathetic, insecure. But he couldn't help it. He needed to know.
Juliet blinked, then let out a soft laugh, as if the question didn't faze her at all. "I don't know," she said casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "I've kind of lost count."
Draco's stomach dropped. He felt his heart constrict, but he forced himself to remain calm, to play it off as though it didn't bother him. "Really?"
"Yeah," Juliet said, shoving her head down yet still trying to keep her confidence in check. "I've always been in those situations when I'm at that point at a party where I can't remember things."
He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "You've never... cared to?"
Juliet's eyes met his, keeping her gaze cool and unbothered as she tried to deflect the question as much as possible. "I mean — I can't remember. It's not that I don't care to. It's just the way it is."
Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, though he tried to keep his face impassive. She was so nonchalant about it, like it didn't matter, like none of it mattered. And maybe to her, it didn't. But Draco wasn't sure if he could handle that. He had spent so much time fantasizing about Juliet — about what it would be like to have her, to be with her. But now, the reality was starting to sink in.
She was a wild card. The ultimate wild card. Beautiful, unpredictable, unattainable. And yet... she had never been in a relationship. Never had anyone close enough to call hers. She just drifted from one party to the next, from one hookup to the next, with no attachments, no consequences.
Draco wasn't naive. He knew she had a reputation. He had heard the whispers, the gossip. But hearing it directly from her — seeing how little it all meant to her — was something else entirely. And it made him wonder if he was making a mistake.
"Have you ever been on a real date?" Draco asked, his voice quieter now, as if he was afraid of her answer.
Juliet chuckled again, though there was a hint of something darker in her eyes. "No. I've been asked out plenty of times, but I've never said yes."
Draco stared at her, his heart sinking further as he failed to see the sadness within her eyes. "Why not?"
Juliet shrugged again, taking another drink. "Because I've just never liked anyone like that before."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy and damning. Draco could feel the weight of it all pressing down on him, the realization sinking deeper and deeper. This was who Juliet was. She wasn't some fantasy girl he could mold into the perfect girlfriend. She was messy, wild, chaotic. And she didn't care. Not about relationships. Not about love.
And maybe that was the real question Draco had been avoiding. Could he really be with someone like that? Someone who didn't even want what he did?
Juliet leaned closer, her hand trailing up his arm, her lips dangerously close to his ear. "Is there a problem?" she teased, coyly.
Draco tensed, his heart pounding in his chest. He could smell the alcohol on her breath, feel the heat radiating off her skin. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted her, badly. But now, all he could think about was whether or not she would even remember it tomorrow.
He pulled back slightly, his jaw clenched. "Maybe."
Juliet's laughter rang out again, loud and careless. "Aren't you interested in finding out other things about me?"
Draco's temper flared, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Maybe I am."
Draco looked away, his thoughts spinning. He had spent so much time thinking about Juliet — wanting her, needing her. But now, all he could feel was uncertainty, doubt. He wasn't sure if he could handle being just another name, just another face in her endless string of wild nights.
Maybe this wasn't the girl he wanted to date after all.
Draco stared at Juliet, his frustration and confusion growing. If she didn't care — if all she wanted was to have fun and sleep around — then fine. He'd go along with it. He was done trying to convince himself there was something more. His anger and disappointment fueled him as he leaned in and kissed her.
Juliet responded eagerly, her hands clutching his shirt as their kiss grew more heated. But the whole time, Draco was tearing himself down inside. He had convinced himself that Juliet was different, that she wasn't just the wild party girl everyone thought she was. But now? Now she was proving him wrong.
His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, as if trying to drown out his thoughts. The kiss became more frantic, but no matter how close they got, it wasn't enough to silence the voice in his head that told him he was an idiot for ever liking her. She was exactly who everyone said she was — a wild, reckless girl who didn't care about anyone or anything.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless and disheveled, Draco's mind was already elsewhere. He had proved to himself what he needed to know. Juliet Van Der Hart was never going to be more than a fleeting moment, just another mistake.
As they started to get dressed, Draco was quiet. The anger and disappointment swirled inside him, his thoughts racing. He grabbed his jacket, ready to leave, when Juliet's voice stopped him, still clasping her bra.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice soft but confused. She could sense the shift in him, the coldness.
"Nothing," Draco said, still not meeting her gaze.
Juliet, used to casual flings, still couldn't shake the tension in the air. It was a habit that she couldn't shake off. If any feelings were there, all she knew to do was drink and party and sleep with them. So she asked, "Did you enjoy it?"
Draco paused, then shot back, "Yeah. You've obviously had a lot of practice."
Her face fell, the hurt clear for a brief moment before she masked it. "Is that how you're really going to leave things?"
Draco finally turned to face her, his expression hard. "You're not who I thought you were."
Juliet stood there, stunned, as Draco stormed out, leaving her alone with the sting of his words. She tried to shrug it off, telling herself it didn't matter. But deep down, it hurt more than she wanted to admit.