"𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙮"
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IN WHICH ~ Jupiter Cassiopeia Lestrange thought she could escape her family's dark legacy at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but in her second year, Tom Riddle's diar...
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"Don't worry when I argue with you. Worry when I stop because that means there's nothing worth fighting for."
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April 1st, 1995
Fred and George Weasley were infamous for throwing the best Gryffindor parties, and every year, just when it seemed they couldn't outdo themselves, they managed to pull off something even more outlandish. This year was no exception—the twins' seventeenth birthday party promised to be the rowdiest yet.
Jupiter dreaded it. Ever since her argument with Harry a few weeks ago, tension had festered like an open wound. She could hardly stand to be around him without feeling a swell of anger, and the prospect of spending the evening in his proximity, at a party no less, was almost unbearable. The thought crossed her mind—maybe she'd have her first taste of firewhiskey just to dull the frustration gnawing at her.
Will, of course, had an opinion on her relationship with Harry, one he never hesitated to share.
"Every time you talk about him, you're practically in tears, Jove," Will said with a weary sigh as they climbed the staircase to the Gryffindor common room.
"Come off it, Will," she shot back, her voice strained with irritation. "I don't want to talk about him right now."
"Oh?" he replied, an almost teasing note in his voice. He straightened, seeming to stand a bit taller as he matched her stride. "What do you want to talk about, then?"
"Anything else," she said, running a hand through her hair, feeling the tangles catch between her fingers.
"Alright," Will shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "How horrible is this party going to be?"
Jupiter let out a dry laugh. "Oh, it's going to be a disaster, no doubt. It's their seventeenth, after all."
Will grimaced. "Merlin, how much firewhiskey do you reckon they smuggled in?"
"Hopefully enough to go around," she muttered, half-joking, half-serious.
Will raised an eyebrow. "Jove, what are you saying? Are you planning to lose your alcohol virginity tonight?" He leaned closer, his voice a mock whisper.
"So what if I am?" she challenged, more to prove a point than out of any real intention. "It's been a rough few weeks." As they reached the top of the staircase, the music—a loud, thumping Muggle beat—blared through the closed portrait hole, accompanied by raucous laughter and cheers.
"How old are you, again?" Will asked, an incredulous smile spreading across his face.
"Fifteen, obviously," she shot back with a shrug. "Since November."
