And I promise to do my job brilliantly, of course.
It was the cupcakes, wasn’t it?
I prefer the term ‘active imagination’ but… okay?
And I promise to do my job brilliantly, of course.
Malfoy knew it, he could see the disappointment on Juliet’s face, and he knew just how she felt because he was feeling it too. No they couldn’t run off into their little fantasy land forever. Relationships were complicated, even without all the outdated pureblood nonsense thrown in on top of it all. He noticed the disappointed look on her face disappearing and he could only assume that she had thought of something worth smiling about. Another quote. He was glad she explained the quote, otherwise he would have not understood it nearly as well. Perhaps he did suit Romeo quite well in that respect, putting himself down. But he couldn’t help it, he didn’t think there was anything to like about himself.
He took a moment to think over how that particular scene of the play had gone while Juliet excused herself to remove her shoes. There had been talk of saints and pilgrims, and… well he remembered how that scene went next and he felt his cheek heat a little. The feeling hadn’t gone by the time Juliet stood and took his hand again. However her odd swaying brought another small smile to his lips. Her quirky mannerisms were oddly loveable to him, and it made him wonder if he’d be able to use them as a clue to her identity. Not that it would be all that wise to figure it out, but the curiosity was nagging at him.
All thoughts of that went out the window, though, as Juliet’s arms moved around his neck. If he hadn’t been blushing before, he definitely was now. There seemed to be nothing for him to do but respond by holding her waist and swaying with her in the style of a slow dance. He wasn’t sure if it was just him, but the small space between them seemed to be heating up quickly. “Yeah… we should,” he replied dumbly, unable to look away from her. What was that? It was as if his mind was suddenly working at half-speed and all those eloquent phrases he could have replied with had suddenly gone out the window.
He had to snap himself out of it, look away from those enchanting eyes for a moment. And not stare at her lips either. He looked down, but only to her shoulders least she think he was staring at her inappropriately. She probably had a very nice body… Okay, focus. His gaze found hers again. “From the sounds of it, we are up to the scene where Romeo convinces Juliet that she must take his sins from him.” Which was done so with a kiss. He knew as he said it that he would very much like a kiss from her. Even without the Romeo and Juliet theme he could probably do with a night of kissing. It would probably be his last chance to do so before he had to become committed to Hazel.
“Perhaps…” No, he was faltering. After he had begun so smoothly he was losing courage, and he had only meant to ask for a kiss. A small one, if she was willing. “Perhaps… you would take my sins from me?” he forced out, hoping that his words weren’t too rushed. Where had his eloquence gone? He wasn’t supposed to turn into a bumbling idiot just because a pretty girl had wrapped her arms around his neck. Now he was getting butterflies, wishing he could take back that last bit so that he could hide back in the safety of his own cowardice, knowing that he at least didn’t have to make a fool of himself in front of the one girl who had drawn his attention away from Lily Potter. He had to bite his tongue to not say anything more to embarrass himself.
If she had thought the hand on her back earlier had made her stomach flutter then his hands placed on her hips were threatening to stop her breathing altogether. She felt filled up with a giddy warmth that she was sure had nothing whatsoever to do with the atmosphere of the dance and everything to do with the closeness of their bodies and the way he was looking at her through his mask. Not unfamiliar eyes, she was sure… but as her mind skimmed through all the different possibilites of who they could belong to, her head just filled up with a confusing mess of thoughts that didn’t make sense and the only conclusion she settled on was that the teachers had well and truly outdone themselves with their spells.
On one hand she so desperately wanted to know his identity, despite putting on the front that she could live with never finding it out (and… she supposed she could; it would make a good story in years to come, like a fairytale or a particularly good dream or a silly bedtime story to tell children) but on the other she was equally as terrified of him finding out hers. Daughter of the oh so great Harry Potter, she was born with a reputation whether she liked it or not. Although over the years she liked to think she had made it her own and more than just ‘Harry Potter’s daughter’, it was a reputation that wasn’t always appreciated by certain students. (i.e. Malfoy and his gang, among a few others in the dying breed of old fashioned purebloods) And then there were the basic insecurities she carried around with her. What if he thought her hair colour was outrageous when he was looking at it properly (the spells seemed to have some sort of affect on what you perceived, like she knew she found him gorgeous, but couldn’t exactly pick out why) or noticed all her little faults and the things about herself that she couldn’t help frown at in the mirror? It was silly and stupid and silly, but she was silly and stupid and silly and as exciting as finding out who he was - and in turn, revealing her identity - seemed, it also sounded utterly terrifying.
And on the topic of fear, she had to press her lips together to stop herself from quietly chuckling at how flustered Romero seemed to be getting. And that wasn’t to say that she wasn’t getting all pink cheeked and nervous giggle-ish, it was just nice to have that effect on somebody, instead of what it usually was for her: her getting that way for people who brushed her off. Reciprocation. It was odd; a nice kind of unusual, ridiculously lovely odd. As he fumbled with his words and managed to completely loose the whole ‘articulate and eloquent and proper’ thing that he had going, although Lily found the whole thing hilariously adorable. Managing to keep as cool as she possibly could, she looked up at him with a quirked eyebrow and an amused smirk.
“You know… you could just ask me for a kiss,” she teased, with a mock eye-roll and headshake, but a grin that gave away her teasing. Knowing he was attempting to follow the story even though he wasn’t as well versed as her delighted and excited her and if she were to make a list of romantic ways to be asked for a kiss, it would probably score pretty high (and really the fumbling was sweet). Whoever he was, whoever his Rosaline was and whatever he had done to sin against her, Lily doubted she would ever know. But sinned, he allegedly had and killer her cousin he had not, therefore she elated to get the opportunity to ‘take his sins from him’ and play her part as Juliet. (And, you know, get to actually kiss the boy who had successfully swept her off her feet in the relatively short time of the ball.) Due to the lack of heels and her already pocket sized height, she had to reach up on her tiptoes in order to bring herself close enough. Heart thudding wildly, she pressed a soft kiss to his lips, the corners of her still quirked in a mischievous smile.
yeah idefk. point is recently i’ve been dopey about my tags and i’m all YEAH I’LL DO THEM TONIGHT but don’t get ‘em done. however i have got two done and saved and the other two started! and they shall be done soon and things’ll be great and i’ll tag into other threads. apologies for sucking ok.
also on an unrelated note i decided to put my ipad on shuffle and write a drabble for as long as the song continued for my characters. and i haven’t done one for either lily or riss but if anybody wants to see the ones for noah/lo/rose/della??? idk??? they’re dumb; i’m dumb, whatevs.
Malfoy couldn’t help scoffing at the concept of apologising Lily Potter, then he immediately regretted making such a noise. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. So many times he had dreamed of making a grand apology to her, one that would make up for everything he had done to her. Though the idea that words were capable of making up all those years of bullying was laughable. Even more laughable than the idea of him showing some bravery for once. He wanted to be brave instead of hiding behind the mask of an arrogant bully, but somehow it was always so much easier to go along with what everyone expected from a Malfoy. He was a victim of his own cowardice, trapped and making petty wishes that would only come true if he could overcome this immense flaw.
He had no idea who this Ophelia was, and he was feeling rather dim-witted about his lack of knowledge on Shakespearian literature. Perhaps he’d buy himself a compilation of Shakespeare’s works some time to read over… in private because as a Malfoy he wouldn’t be caught dead reading something written by a muggle. What he had gotten out of Juliet’s words was that this Ophelia had drowned herself. It was sad and yet it was a nice feeling knowing that he and Juliet could relate in a way thanks to their complicated, tragic romances. In a way she was giving him hope that he could feel something for someone other than Lily, even if their silly Romeo and Juliet fairytale didn’t last beyond midnight.
Did he feel something for this Juliet? It all seemed extremely fast, yet the way she looked at him from under her lashes then bit her lip made his pulse quicken. “Maybe,” he agreed slowly. “Though I am afraid I have to be the mood-killer here and say that, as lovely as you are, this will have to end at midnight. I fear that if I told you my identity you would not like what you find.” Of course she wouldn’t. He was Scorpius Malfoy, pureblood snob, bully, and leader of the worst gang in school, not to mention he had received extra hatred lately for what he had done to Lily’s campaign posters. “If that has not put you off, however, I would like to enjoy this evening with you… if that is alright with you. I have enjoyed your company so far. I understand if you do not wish to, though. I have hardly made a good first impression.” Talking of being cruel to his Rosaline then being foolish enough to cut off the fantasy by announcing it would end by the time the night was up… why had he done that? Another action he was beginning to regret, as if he didn’t have enough already. But one action he did not regret was asking Juliet to dance. It wasn’t often that a girl managed to grasp his interest so firmly, and he didn’t think anyone had done so as quickly as her. Maybe it was a sign.
Who was the girl that could do this to him? As curious as he was about Juliet’s identity, he was worried about what he’d do once he had it. Her knowledge of Shakespeare had him thinking that her family was not strictly pureblood. There had to be some muggle in there somewhere, or at least a muggle fanatic making them ‘blood traitors’ (though he didn’t like the term). Either way, it wouldn’t end up well for him. He’d want to talk to her again. He didn’t know what it was he felt right now, perhaps a fleeting crush, but whatever it was he didn’t need to add another unobtainable girl to his list of obsessions. He’d done enough damage with Lily.
Temporary, she reminded herself once more. As much as she would have liked for things to continue further that just one night, her Romeo was being more realistic about things. It wasn’t all that often that Lily was forced to accept reality over fantasy (although it seemed to happen quite a bit around people she fancied) and his words crush the little sliver of hope and dreams of a silly romance that she had been hoping would be allowed to continue. Additionally, his words piqued her curiosity - an effect that she doubted he intended. But he could hardly tell her that she wouldn’t be pleased with his identity an then expect her not to wonder what was so bad about it. (And if anything it made the whole thing even more thrilling and exciting and just as those thoughts entered her head she wanted to shove them out again because she couldn’t allow herself to keep dreaming of the long term.)
Yet still, there were hours until midnight. Hours left in his company. The disappointment that had etched itself onto her face slowly evaporated and she let the corners of her mouth curl upwards in a smile that she hoped was somewhat reassuring. “Oh shush. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this — that’s, um, basically Juliet telling Romeo that he puts himself down far too much and he’s been nothing but proper,” she explained with a hint of pride in her voice at being able to quote stuff. She knew the sonnet well enough that she was well aware of what happened next - kissing - but decided against mentioning that to him, unless he knew also (and she doubted he did from what he had said to her earlier). Being unfamiliar with Shakespeare didn’t indicate much; Lily knew a handful of muggleborns who couldn’t be bothered with the flowery language of his work and a pureblood or two who didn’t uphold those idiotic traditional values and greatly enjoyed the muggle literature. And she knew that looking too much into things was dangerous also, for he was to remain a mystery to her and then leave before the masks came off. Dwelling on the limited time they hand, she sighed softly and cast her gaze downwards once more. It was then, looking at their feet, that a wicked smirk settled on her lips and she looked back up at Romeo, grinning.
“Hold that thought,” she said quickly and pulled her hand away for a few moments so she could duck down and start undoing the contraptions on her feet. The shoes were gorgeous, however anything but practical, and the damn things refused to be removed from her feet. After a few moments of untying, she finally slipped her feet out of them and put them to one side, under the benches around the tree. “Fuck it,” she declared, before taking his hand again. Lily’s dancing knowledge was minimal, although she was sure that ‘take your partner’s hand and then sort of… sway’ wasn’t the correct way to do things. Except her and the correct way to dance had fallen out earlier in the evening and she was far happier to stick close to the large tree in the center of the room and sway or move or just be close to him. (And then there was another purpose that the tree was being used for that she could spy out of the corner of her eye, but… they still had plenty of time in which to finish that sonnet.)
Not caring for where her hands were meant to go, she laced an arm around his neck and tipped her head sideways. In the knowledge that she would remain anonymous and they would part after one evening, she gained a little more confidence - even more that her generally quite bold Gryffindor self. That confidence (and the flirtatiousness that she had probably got from her eldest brother) was evident in the mischievous glint in her eye. “I figure we should make the most of what little time we have, then. Shoes or no shoes.”
As silly as the name ‘Ross’ sounded among the cast of Shakespearian characters, Malfoy couldn’t help a pang of jealousy. It was silly, he knew, to be jealous at all that this girl he’d just started dancing with had her eye on someone else. Silly and foolish and all manner of things. He usually didn’t feel so stupid around anyone except Lily Potter. Stupid for obsessing about her. But this Juliet was, he found, both charming and exactly like ‘she who doth teach the torches to burn bright’, both in looks and the bright spark of life she was turning out to be. Every time she smiled or grinned at him he felt a little more like their Romeo and Juliet game could actually become something more. For a few seconds he entertained the idea that they could have their own secret romance, writing each other silly love letters during class and meeting in dark corridors at night for midnight strolls. But this thought was quickly dismissed. He was Scorpius Malfoy and had an appearance to maintain, and a pureblood to marry.
He watched Juliet’s expression change after her vow to erase his feelings for ‘wicked Rosaline’. For the first time since - well he didn’t know since when - he felt the amusement bubble up within him enough to make his chest shake with silent laughter. She really was something if she could make him do that. Though she tripped before he could say anything, and he halted his own dance steps as she recovered. “All is forgiven,” he replied, the corner of his lips turned up in an amused smirk. “I will not force you to continue dancing.” A little reluctantly, he removed his hand from her back. However, her hand he did not let go of. Instead he held it in both hands before his chest, not so firmly that she couldn’t remove her hand if she wanted to. They may not have been dancing anymore, but he certainly intended to continue their conversation. She’d caught his interest, and unless she was the one to call an end to the conversation, it would probably continue until midnight; or until his planned departure just before midnight.
“Liking someone who hates you is not as foolish as you may think,” he continued their conversation from before her little stumble. “Foolishness is intentionally hurting the one you love.” He lowered his gaze to their hands as he said this, feeling guilty, then his eyes darted back up to his Juliet’s through the mask with that same ashamed look. “I know, it’s beyond foolish. It’s cruel and heartless, and I don’t know whether I do it to push her away or to get closer to her.” He paused, then added, “That doesn’t make all that much sense, I’m sorry. In the case of your… Ross… though, I would not give up hope if I were you. Guys are stupid around girls. I would know, I am one.” He finished with a weak grimace. Yes he certainly was stupid in the way he acted, and even after giving thought to how he wanted to change he still couldn’t bring himself to do anything but continue the way he was, slowly digging himself deeper into his own misery. But he had Juliet now, his mysterious, pretty, young, masked dance partner. If he had nothing else, he could at least look back on this night.
Without putting a huge amount of thought into it, he was still trying to figure out who this Juliet was. Something about her silly expressions and way of speaking had him somehow rang a bell for him, like someone he knew well enough to recognise her mannerisms. Yet the more he tried to think about it the more fuzzy his mind became, as if the very act of trying to recall people made the spell even stronger. He could only think that she was someone in Slytherin, because he knew those in his house better than those in the others, for the most part. That would rule out Rosalie, though. She was in Ravenclaw, and he wasn’t all that familiar with her yet. Juliet had also mentioned a cousin, but that hardly ruled out anyone in the school, and she could have been just pretending she had a cousin for effect so it didn’t help him rule out anyone really. The only thing that really had any ground was that she liked someone who hated her, but Malfoy was almost certain that this could be applied to at least a quarter of the school. Well then, anonymous she would remain.
As he removed his hand she mentally cursed her clumsiness in her head, but at the same time was glad that she no longer posed a threat to him and the other dancers surrounding them. (And as she looked around she wondered if they were playing out the same story as they were; sharing the same kinds of secrets.) For a moment, her smile slipped when she believed he intended to find a new partner. Instead continued to keep her hand in his and her smile returned, even wider than before. Temporary, she had to remind herself. It was more than a one dance thing, evidently, but it couldn’t me more than a one night thing… except — except maybe it could. Unless, of course, her Romeo really did want to get back to his Rosaline to win her over. (And then she really did wish to be Juliet and make him fall so in love with her that all thoughts of his Rosaline vanished. It was both a selfish and stupid wish, but wish it she did.)
Listening to his words, she found herself wondering how he could be as cruel as he made out. From since when they had met to that point, he had been nothing but charming. She liked his properness in contrast to her silly behaviour. And she liked his smile (she liked that a lot) and she liked how she could make him smile and how he didn’t think her silly behaviour was completely stupid. The idea that he could be anything less than as sweet as he had been so far during the evening seemed stupid and ridiculous. Moreover, he definitely seemed to regret whatever he had done or said to his Rosaline, so clearly he wasn’t a horrible person. Perhaps just a confused one. “No,” she started hesitantly, unable of find the right way to go about in responding. “Well — it does and it doesn’t. But if you really like her and regret whatever happened then… apologise? Clean slate and all that?”
After hearing his advice on ‘Ross’ she only shook her head, giving a tiny dejected smile. “If I decided to wait for him, I think I’d end up more like Ophelia than Juliet and drown myself out of madness,” she joked. The very idea of waiting for Scorpius Malfoy to confess his feelings of undying love was far too ridiculous, even for her. She doubted he would even be at the ball. It seemed too whimsical and fun for somebody like him to attend. (Still, she can’t resist a glance around but even without the hazy buzz of the spells, she doubted she would be able to pick him out. Too many masks on too many different faces.) As if to dispel the thought of him, she gave a little shake of her head and looking back up at Romeo. “Besides. Maybe…,” she looked up at him from under her lashes, giving his hand a slight squeeze as she spoke, “Maybe both Romeo and Juliet have better options now than those they loved before?”
Nervously, she gnawed on her lower lip once more and hoped that he didn’t think her too forward. It was a silly night for silly things; perhaps he wasn’t being overly serious about the Shakespearean theme to their meeting. Names were just names and they were both just playing along with them. …Except she wanted to do more than just play along because those butterflies in her stomach and the flushed cheeks refused to go away. She hadn’t had anything to drink and she doubted the teachers would allow anything alcoholic, but Lily could feel the same buzz that she got from being tipsy. It was all blurry and bubbly and dizzy and silly and slightly fall-y over-y. And even though his real name remained a mystery (one she both desperately wanted to know and almost dreaded to find out for fear of spoiling it all) she couldn’t bring herself to care. After all, what’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
“Indeed,” Malfoy replied to his Juliet’s quote. It pleased him that she knew the story, and far better than he did from the sounds of it. “I’m afraid I cannot quote lines like you do, though the words of Shakespeare sound much better on your tongue than they do on mine.” Sure, he’d seen a performance of Wizard Romeo and Witch Juliet and had very much enjoyed it, but his strict, pureblood upbringing had not let him delve any deeper into Shakespeare. The fact that this girl knew Shakespeare suggested that she at least had a muggle influence in her life. Then again, her quoting muggle literature reminded him of something very much Rosalie Muldrow, though the anonymity spell left his mind fuzzy when he tried to recall why. It was somewhat disconcerting, not being able to remember the distinguishing features of people he saw around school all the time, so he decided not to think to hard about it.
It wasn’t all that difficult to get distracted from thinking too hard, either. The way Juliet said the name Romeo had him a little giddy. She was going along with his stupid, fanciful idea of a night of romance, and this made him happy. One night of escapism was all that he asked for, and it seemed that those gut instincts that had told him to ask this particular girl to dance had been right. Juliet’s following question, however, brought his mood down a little. Paris and Rosaline: one of the many complications in the story or love and woe.
“I will not lie,” he answered her, emboldened by his anonymity to speak at least obscurely about his love for Lily. “There is a Rosaline in my life, but she is just as unobtainable for me as she is for Romeo. Romeo is not worthy of Rosaline’s love anyhow. Perhaps as my Juliet you can help me forget her.” As if he could ever forget Lily Potter. He had the feeling that he would always have lingering feelings for her, even long after his inevitable marriage to Hazel Robbins. Another complication for Romeo and Juliet, but he decided not to bring up his promise to Hazel, otherwise it would be too easy to identify him. “Tell me,” he continued, “do you have a Paris of your own? Or do you, perhaps, have your eye on someone else entirely?”
He couldn’t blame her if she was already in a relationship, or was interested in someone else. He was hiding his soon-to-be engagement from her, and had just confessed his own Rosaline. Perhaps he would have his own inwardly-selfish moment, wishing that he could have her to himself, but he knew that this was unfair, and that he was not at all deserving. But it wasn’t like they were going to play out the entire Romeo and Juliet story. He recalled how that one ended, and he definitely wasn’t going to go there. They wouldn’t even kiss… would they? He had never had a girlfriend before, so at eighteen years of age he had never been kissed. He often stupidly wished that Lily would be his first, but in all likelihood his first would come on the day of his wedding to Hazel Robins. That thought was more than a little depressing.
“Honestly?” she replied, creasing her brow. Honestly she was completely infatuated with somebody who detested her. Not to mention she could ‘fall in love’ at the drop of a hat. But she felt she ought to confess to something (and the anonymity would give her freedom to mention her feelings for Scorpius without judgement) as he had confessed to his Rosaline. “Honestly, the situation is less Juliet than Paris and more Juliet and — Ross. Or whatever the male equivalent of Rosaline is,” she admitted, giving a little laugh as she finished. Half bemused at her own words, half embarrassed. Ross? Oh, very Shakespearean. “And — well, he hates my very existence,” she finished, giving a tiny sigh and a little glance up at Romeo, wondering if he thought her stupid for liking somebody who so obviously detested her.
In an ideal world, the evening would cause her to completely forget about anything to do with Scorpius Malfoy. However, despite their name choices, it was evident that their meeting wouldn’t mirror the story. Oh, she could dream it would (minus the ending, of course) but the reality, which she hated the idea of accepting, was that after the dance he would probably want to find another partner. And after the night, they would never knowingly meet again. Never was there a tale of more woe than that of Juliet and her Romeo. Frowning down at the ground, half paying attention to where her feet were and half thinking, she let her mind stray from the negative thoughts and return back to her idealistic fantasy. There they both were - two masked, petrarcharn lovers who had found each other on an eve of mystery. Ridiculous and romantic and ridiculous; she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face.
“Anyway, as your Juliet, I vow to try exceedingly hard to erase all feelings for this wicked Rosaline you speak of,” she laughed and accompanied her words with raising her eyebrows and quirking her lips, putting on her best mock ‘I’m just that good’ expression, before relaxing her features into a smile. So preoccupied with their conversation, she lost concentration on the ‘not breaking an ankle’ front and managed to trip sideways, nearly standing on his foot. Her recovery was anything but graceful, but it was a recovery and although her cheeks burnt she was glad that only her dignity had been wounded. “As long as my Romeo forgives all possible injuries at the hands of silly heels?” After a moment’s pause she frowned and added, “And doesn’t kill my cousin.”
Cousin. Singular. As mentioning that she had many, many cousins (none of which she particularly wished dead due to age old feuds) would most likely lead towards her identity as a member of the Potter/Weasley clan. She briefly pondered the idea of knowing Romeo’s true identity and letting him know hers, but decided that it would rather spoil the magic of it all. At present her only focus was enjoying the mystery of their meeting. And staying upright.
Malfoy gave his first small smile of the night when his mystery partner replied. It a weak smile; he was out of practice, because Scorpius Malfoy was never seen smiling around Hogwarts. He saved those smiles for close family in those rare moments when he was truly happy. “I can dance very well,” he replied with more confidence than he usually possessed. He reflected on how much easier it was to be someone else entirely while completely anonymous. He certainly wouldn’t have behaved half as friendly and open if this dance hadn’t been anonymous. In fact, he would have been stuck dancing with Hazel Robins all night and making dull conversation with her. Not that Hazel was all that bad. She was sweet, but oddly enough she was too traditional to him, in the ‘woman must submit to her husband’ kind of way, and he didn’t actually like that.
As the mystery girl took his hand, he bowed over it and let his lips graze her knuckles. He could be the perfect gentleman when he wanted to be, and tonight he really did want to be. Straightening up, he led the girl to the dance floor. Her smile dazzled him. Yes, he had certainly made a good choice. There were plenty of pretty girls in Hogwarts. None as pretty as Lily Potter, as far as he was concerned, but pretty nonetheless. Only a few couples had started dancing so far, as things always started off slow at school balls. Finding a clear spot, he turned to his mystery partner and lightly put a hand on her back in the proper formal dancing position. He could see that a few of the males dancing had their hand on their female partner’s waist. Malfoy knew that this wasn’t entirely correct. The proper position for one’s hand was actually higher up the female’s back, up by the shoulder bone. It annoyed him a little that people were doing it wrong, but he’d show them how it was done.
Finding the beat, Malfoy lead his partner into the dance, keeping the step simple to begin with so that he could judge her dancing ability and sense of rhythm. “Since we are to remain anonymous,” he said, wanting to make conversation, “may I call you Juliet? For you are just as beautiful as Romeo described.” The Shakespeare classics had been adapted and performed so many times that of course it had leaked into the wizarding world. He had seen a performance of it when he was younger, with a cast of witches and wizards. Calling the mystery girl Juliet seemed very appropriate to him. He wasn’t sure about falling in love at first sight, because that seemed silly, but she did seem lovely. And that would make him Romeo, arriving at a Masquerade ball hopelessly in love with Rosaline. Rosaline being Lily Potter. He didn’t think he’d get over Lily quite as easily as Romeo got over his Rosaline, but then again maybe he’d at least be able to leave the ball feeling less attached to her. That was the best-case scenario.
Knowing him, this Juliet would be just as off-limits to him as a Capulet was to a Montague. Really, how many pureblooded girls were there in Hogwarts? There were a few lovely ones, yes, and though he sincerely hoped that his Juliet was one of them, he doubted it. It was more like a mere fancy, the silly romanticised idea that he could have a one-night romance and everything would be perfect all the way until the clock struck midnight. But this wasn’t some storybook romance, and he and this Juliet would probably get one dance in then split ways. Or she’d end up being awful to spend time with; that would be just his luck.
At the mention of Romeo and Juliet and the proposal that they should each go by the main characters’ names, the mystery boy had managed to completely win her over. Albeit It wasn’t a particularly hard thing to do, but her resolve to never go near idiotic boys with idiotic brains had completely crumbled, just like she was sure she was going to do any second. At every possible opportunity it got, Lily’s mind could not be stopped from conjuring up mad, ridiculously romantic fantasies of meeting somebody and falling into a whirlwind romance. She had always imagined that some day she would bump into somebody who would love her unconditionally on the spot. And of course she knew how idiotic thinking that made her and knew that it would never happen but — but here she had been just asked to dance by somebody gorgeous and polite and he had just mentioned her favourite play of all time and compared her to Juliet and him to Romeo, both of whom fell in love almost instantaneously. Of course a hopeless romantic like her would be completely wooed.
“I’m —,” in her state of awe at her mystery Romeo, she almost corrected him and told him that Lily Potter was nowhere near Juliet Capulet in terms of beauty. But she was thankful for her inability to remain completely cool in situations such as these - the stuttering earned her a few extra seconds in which to save herself. “I’m as beautiful as she who doth teach the torches to burn bright?”
Lily’s main concern probably shouldn’t have been how beautiful he found her - rather that their love was destined to be doomed and most likely forbidden, if they really did follow the story. (Or that she was already referring to it as ‘love’ in her head, but she had convinced herself that she had been in love so many times already just because she loved the very concept of it.) Although she was proud of managing to quote the play, even if it was an obvious one. Her own copy of it lay on her bedside table - battered and annotated and drawn all over.
“And, Romeo,” she continued, emphasising his chosen name with a thrilled little smirk and biting at her lip, “does that then mean that after this dance I shall return to my Paris and you your Rosaline?”
Considering that possibility, she decided that if that were the case she would be both extremely disappointed and extremely jealous of whoever his Rosaline may be, if he had one. Not to mention that she was worried that her dancing skills were so below par that he regretted even asking her in the first place. Lily had always been the type of person who liked closeness, little touches and little brushes; his hand on her back caused her chest to tighten and her stomach to knot. Butterflies. She had butterflies; a knot of excitement and nerves and exhilaration in her stomach that was causing her to stumble and her feet to keep missing the beat and move the wrong. Ever so quietly, she cursed to herself and mouthed counting the beat of the dance in order to try and get her footing right. Realising the she was probably making herself look like an idiot, she looked up and gave her Romeo an apologetic, blushing smile. It was a good thing that he was the one leading, at least.