princess serenity, hbic. (

mikipinku) wrote,
@ 2011-07-22 01:00:00

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25 flavors. juliet nott

juliet i. nott;
happy	angry	sad	concerned	scared
crying	giddy	crush	love	innocent
betrayed	baby	best friend	focused	traumatized
wary	drunk	flustered	bitchy	maternal love
hogwarts	graduating	regret	jumeline	teenaged twins

10; innocent

"What did you do to it?"

Juliet shrugged as her brother eyed her warily, then the wand she extended to him, then her face again. She rose a brow and shook his wand at him, urging him to take it from her. "Come on, I just found it."

Caradoc shook his head and stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest. "Nuh-uh, I don't believe that for a second. Now seriously, Juliet, what did you do to my wand?"

The younger Dearborn groaned in frustration, but her arm did not fall. Honestly, you'd think that she went around messing with her brother's things all the time. Oh, wait---Well, either way, it was no cause for all the paranoia he seemed to have right now, and it was really starting to annoy her. This was the last time she tried to do something nice for Caradoc, that was for sure.

"I just found it in the garden," she repeated, enunciating her words slowly, as if she were speaking to a small child. "Now are you going to take the stupid thing before my arm falls off or not?"

Caradoc scoffed, and Juliet rolled her eyes. This was bloody ridiculous!

"No way, I'm not touching that thing. I'll buy a new damn wand before I----HEY!"

Before he could finish his sentence, he had to jump back out of the way as the piece of wood came flying at him. Caradoc dodged it just barely, and his wand clattered to the floor at his feet while his sister walked away from the scene. He backed up a couple of paces, never taking his eyes off of the wand, and then turned swiftly, making his way off in the other direction.

Juliet, innocent? That was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard.

11; betrayed

Caradoc,

Darling, you'll never believe it, but the Hookes have been so kind as to invite us to their villa in the south of France this weekend! We're leaving straightaway now and we'll be gone for the next four days. Filkes will take care of you and your sister in our absense, we've already told him all about it. We'll think of you both!

Love,
Mum

The swirly, neat writing of her mother was blotched and stained with wet spots, the already crumpled up paper sustaining even more damage than her brother had already done to it. Juliet Dearborn, five years old, sat quietly on the floor of Caradoc's room, the only noise soft, small sobs that she was, for once in her life, not trying to hold in.

He didn't know that she was there and he would probably be angry if he caught her there, but she had needed to find her stuffed centaur and Caradoc liked to hide her things when he was mad at her and he had seemed mad, but she hadn't really known why until she found the piece of balled up paper thrown on the floor.

By all means, it shouldn't matter to them that their parents, who barely paid attention to them anyway, were going to be gone for a few days and be out of their hair, but this time it was different. This time they weren't just abandoning their children to the house elf because they felt like getting away, this weekend was different, this Saturday was Juliet's birthday and--well, her parents had never paid attention to their birthdays before (or would shower them with presents months later on a date that they no more than guessed at), but this year wasn't supposed to be like that. She had reminded her father and he had promised he would be there and they would all go out and then he would buy her whatever she wanted and--

--"Juliet, what in the hell are you--oh."

Fighting to gain control of her tears because she reufsed to let Caradoc see her cry (she couldn't let him think she was soft and that he could just get his way all the time) and failing, Juliet didn't know what else to do. Throwing the letter--note, it was more like a note--to the floor, she raced past her brother and out of the room.

She hated her parents. She hated them.

12; baby

"Well, I don't see why she won't! It's ever-so-frustrating, really. I mean, when I was a newlywed I wasn't given a week before my parents and I were telling me to get on with this heir business and--I suppose she doesn't have parents now to tell her that, though, so I've just had to lay it on twice as thickly. It is my grandson we're talking about, anyway, so I suppose I should have more say than most--ah! Juliet, dear, I didn't see you over there... come in, come in!"

Juliet had, in fact, been standing in the doorway to Victoria Nott's salon for a few minutes, and she was quite certain that the other woman had known she was there and had, in fact, intended for her to overhear her and her friends' conversation. This was why Juliet hated coming here, she hated her tactless, pushy, nosy, stupid mother-in-law and it was hardly pleasant to have to sit through tea with a sore tongue from all the biting.

But she went anwyay, because she was supposed to, even if Juliet got a great kick out of defying the stereotypes and being a rebel and, quite frankly, a pain in people's arses. Yet she had only been married to Rhys for under two months and, well... if she was truly unlucky (as was her current idea), she would have to deal with this woman for as long as she would have to deal with her son--the rest of her life. That was a long time to be glaring daggers at one another, even if Juliet did so enjoy the feeling of knives at her back. So she sat down across the small table from Victoria and her friends (she didn't even remember their bloody names, they were just a couple gossip hounds anyway) with what she tried to make into a smile, but turned out completely indifferent.

"It's fine, Mother," --what an offending name, but Victoria absolutely demanded it-- "I haven't been here long."

"Oh, what a relief!" Fucking liar. "You would not have wished to walk in on our previous conversat--well,actually, Juliet, now that I think of it, it really is something you should hear! I was just telling Druella about your--ah, persistence in the matter of bearing my son a child and then Eliza chimed in to say that she agreed with me completely with what we spoke of earlier and..."

"Oh yes, very much a duty! A privelage!" Eliza chirped, and she sounded near to a robot.

"Neither of us," Druella motioned between herself and Eliza, "were lucky enough to produce a son, but Victoria was absolutely blessed and--darling, well, it's just such a waste of poor Rhys to see you not carrying a child for him!"

Juliet felt sick at the talk. It wasn't that she really cared that they were still pushing this baby thing on her,because Circe knew that she had grown accustomed to tuning it out. It was something else much worse that was making her sick, and as she opened her mouth to speak, Juliet knew that it wasn't the morning sickness for once that was making her feel this way. "Actually..."

17; drunk

Juliet Dearborn hated drinking--in fact, she hated other people drinking too, because she hated idiots and that was exactly was drinking made you; a bloody idiot with a lack of sense of balance. She'd never even tasted alcohol apart from the wine that her parents served at family dinner, and even that she tried to avoid. She'd never thought that anyone could persuade her that it would be a good idea to go out and have a few drinks... and yet somehow, Ellie Bell, her friend that she was the least likely to take advice from and listen to, had done it.

It had seemed like a good enough reason; she had just dumped Rhys (he so had not dumped her) and Ellie had said that all the girls in the dorm should have a toast to new beginnings. She pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey from Merlin knows where, poured herself, Emmeline, and Anneliese glasses, then shoved one into Juliet's hands before she could refuse.

Why not just one? It wouldn't hurt, and just a little bit of celebration was never a bad thing.

The alcohol had burned its way down her throat and she remembered hating it but not much between that and the point that she had ended up giggling--giggling and rolling on the floor laughing at some stupid joke that Emmeline had made about hippogryffs (she didn't even get it, it was just hilarious) and Ellie was pouring out her third glass. And apparently it was also three in the morning, but as Juliet looked up at her clock she found even that to be absolutely side-splittingly hilarious even the drowsiness was taking over swiftly.

"Aaaaahahaha, fuck hipp'gryffs," she slurred out. "An' fuck Rhys too he looks like one anyway, he---I'm soooo glad that I broke up with---ahaha nevermin', goodniiiiight--"

She never drank again.

20; maternal love

"The slamming of the door to the nursery resonated throughout the whole huge house, but the baby laying in her crib did not startle in the least. If anything, even at a mere four months old, Aemelia Nott was used to the sound of doors slamming. With parents like she had, slammed doors, raised voices, and thundering footsteps were a normal occurance around the house. Juliet swore that the infant had accquired the ability to ignore when her parents were arguing, because there was no other way that the kid could get as much sleep as she did around this place.

Or maybe she was just content in the knowledge that whatever it was would be forgiven (rather, pretended to be forgotten so that apologies wouldn't have to be suffered through) within the next day or two.

Right now, however, it was time for ranting and not forgetting, although the look on Aemelia's face as she blurrily looked up into her mother's aggravated features said that she didn't understand at all why Juliet was there bothering her over it. Juliet rolled her eyes as she reached into the crib and lifted the tiny child off of her blankets. "Don't give me that look," she told her. "I still haven't forgiven you for spitting up on me last night, you're lucky I'm even talking to you."

Even after four months of having this child in her life, Juliet hadn't really gotten that whole feeling of being maternal in her. She'd learned how to change the diapers and feed her and dress her and all that stuff quickly enough, she just didn't feel... well, mummyish. The Healers said it wasn't post-partem depression, and Juliet knew that it wasn't some horrible ramification of her less-than-parentally-influenced childhood, because of all things, that was what drove her to pay attention to her. It was... maybe it was that she really hadn't connected at all with this sentient being that she was supposed to have created.

A tight tug on her hair brought Juliet out of her reverie and she looked down to see a still-puzzled baby in her arms. She sighed. "Fine, since you're so nosy--if you really must know, your father decided to be late from work tonight, as he has been the last week and I really am fed up with it because I shouldn't have to be the only one to wrestle you through a bath and bedtime and--yes, don't act innocent, young lady, you know how difficult you are in the evening."

Aemelia pulled a face, but was obviously still listening... sometimes Juliet reckoned that the little girl could understand everything that she was saying and that she was a brilliant linguist somewhere in there. "So, when I told your father that he owed me a whole week of changing diapers for this, he said that we should have the house elf do that, but then I said that that was who I was raised by, and so the conclusion is that Daddy is being a dirty bastard and that you should spit up on him at every chance you get in utter spite and retribution."

Had she not been looking into the infant's face, Juliet might have missed the short giggle that emanated from Aemelia's lips, but--no, that had definitely happened, the baby had definitely just laughed at something she had said, and she suddenly couldn't help the twitch on the side of her lips that indicated that she wanted to smile. Juliet was not one to be made to smile if she was determined not to, and so she at first felt a bit alarmed by whatever weird happiness was making her do it, but... but the alarm wore away quickly at realizing how nice this sudden warmth felt. It was a warmth that made her want to just... holy crap, hug someone, specifically this child she had and she did and--

--oi, Aemelia was never going to let her hear the end of this.

23; p.y.o. regret

He was gone.

He was really, really gone.

Caradoc Dearborn, who had existed upon this earth at one point, had died, and so he was now gone. It was a simple concept, really, one that a child could have understood... and so why was it so very impossible for someone as booksmart, as clever, as sensible and logical as Juliet to even begin to try to comprehend?

He was gone, he was gone, he was gone.

The words rang in her head maddeningly, no matter how she pulled at her hair, how deep into the pillows she buried her face or how tightly she closed her eyes and wished them away. They were there, omnipresent, a fact from which she could not escape but with which she was not prepared to cope.

Coping with Caradoc being gone meant... a lot of things. It meant realizing what a horrid bitch she was, how much of the past eighteen years she'd spent yelling at, berating or even outright refusing to speak to one of the only people she was certain actually gave a shit about her. It meant knowing that she had more than once wished him away and realizing now how utterly scared she was to not have him there. It meant----he wasn't here, now, when she was stuck in bloody France with a semi-husband she was too stubborn to let in and two very scary, life-altering mistakes that she had no idea what to do about.

Caradoc, her older brother, the only person in her whole family who wasn't a self-centered prick--even if he did act like it more often than not--and who actually understood her, was gone. And he wasn't coming back.

No, she couldn't understand that. But even more, she couldn't understand this other feeling;

The feeling of being so sorry, for everything.

25; p.y.o. teenaged twins

"Mon dieu! It wasn't that big of a deal!" The defiant voice of a teenager rang out, bouncing off the walls of the office, amplified now as he jolted up from the couch, arms out in exasperation. "It wasn't even that strong of a hex, and he didn't even bleed that much!"

Evan Nott crossed his arms, clad in school robes, across his chest and stared hard at his parents several feet away, doing his best not to look intimiated. He didn't really know if there was any way not to be more than a little terrified of them, honestly, but over the years he liked to think he had developed a strong face for it at least.

This would be a whole lot easier to handle, though, if his bloody sister would at least have the respect to get off the couch and defend him. This was her fault, after all.

Silence blanketed the room, and Evan barely controlled a twitch in his eye as the staring contest went on--with his father, of course... no, he couldn't start this with his mother, that would be a sure and quick loss. It was bad enough that he could feel her gaze boring into the side of his head, feel the annoyance that was radiating off of her at being forced to make this trip and associate with a school full of very French-speaking, French-looking French people.

This was--this was so unfair, he--All he had done was throw a weak little hex at stupid, pompous Julien LeBlanc, and because Aemelia had complained he had been bothering her, it--that was what a GOOD brother did, right? He would only be unconscious for a week, at most, he had gone easy on him and--

Stupid Aemelia, she always got him into situations like this. And now Madame Maxime had called in their parents, which was much worse than... cleaning duty or detention for life or dance lessons, or whatever the worst punishment was when you went to a faggy, prissy French school like Beauxbatons.

Stupid, stupid fucking Aemelia.

"We must do something about this." The heavy voice that broke the silence finally came from the desk across the room, and all eyes turned to watch the headmistress, large hands clasped together on top of her desk. She regarded Rhys and Juliet sternly, as if they were somehow in just as much of a predicament as the teenagers. "We simply cannot accept such behaviour 'ere at Beauxbatons. I am sorry to say that I have no choice but to suspend both Monsieur Evan and Mademoiselle Aemelia, for repeated offenses of disrupting the peace of the school, until they have learned 'ow to control themselves."

This time it was Juliet's eye that was twitching, and her cold glare turned itself on the disgustingly oversized headmistress. If there was anything she hated more than a French person, it was a French person presumed they could tell her that her children deserved to be punished.

"Let me make certain that we are entirely clear, Madame," Juliet began slowly. Both Evan and Aemelia's heads quickly turned to their mother, the former in shock and the latter in amusement. They both knew that tone; the tone that meant that their mother was about to verbally decimate someone. "You are telling me that it is policy of this school to allow a pompous jack-off to sexually harass female students, and follow it up with punishment to any irate brother who attempts to teach the sniveling brat a well-deserved lesson?" Juliet's eyes narrowed.

Madame Maxime, mouth agape--whether due to being talked back to by a parent or simply the choice of words--floundered for words for a moment. Juliet was not kind, nor patient enough, to give her the chance to recover.

Standing up, she crossed the room to grab an arm of each twin, and nodded to her husband to follow. "In that case, I feel we have little to discuss here," she said shortly. "You are incorrect. Evan and Aemelia will return to your school when I feel you have learned how to manage your students, Madame. I hope you will come to terms with your shortcomings soon."

Neither twin dared a snicker as they were lead out of the office in-between their parents, but a secret smirk said it all. Evan caught the words "idiots" and "should have sent them to Hogwarts" muttered to his father just before the Portkey swept them all away in a rush of wind and light.

Huh. He wondered how long they'd be gone this time.

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