The air was cold tonight. Colder than it had been all year, as the season of autumn started to sink its roots into the surroundings and make itself at home. This high up in the castle, she had only the stars and wind for company. Tonight, most of the castle population were down on the grounds, enjoying the festivities of the anticipated Autumn Ball. Instead of being down there with them, mingling with the friends she had not made and faking a smile she did not mean, Juliette had sought refuge in the Astronomy Tower.
Her first month at Hogwarts had not been what she had been hoping it to be. It hadn't been the saving grace she thought she'd needed, nor had it been the reprieve from home her father had wished it would be. Going back to Hogwarts had not helped with 'healing', as everybody had hoped it would, and not because she thought of her twin sister everywhere she went — she had prepared for that. It was no different from being at home. She imagined Lexie everywhere she went. Some were memories, from their first month at Hogwarts. Most of them were fiction; fantasies crafted by her mind of what could've been. The two of them walking the halls together, going to class together... in another universe, maybe.
Her younger brother came into her thoughts a lot, too. Imaginings of him in his first year at Hogwarts, getting sorted into his house. Hopefully Slytherin, like her and Lexie. What should've happened, had Jules not failed to protect him that day. Just like she had failed to protect Lexie, too.
But what Juliette had not prepared for was the loneliness. The isolation that she felt, despite being surrounded by hundreds of students. It was suffocating, in a twisted way. She had said maybe ten words total since she arrived last month and really, it was for lack of trying. She's always been quiet by nature, that had always been the way of it. Less verbose than her sister — quiet to the point you'd forget she was there. But it's gotten worse since the accident, and she's cowered into herself like a turtle afraid to come out of its shell, as if saying less would make her less real, and make everything less painful.
It doesn't help. Not really. Not when the quiet becomes too loud, or when the walls seem to be closing in on her and she can't quite catch a breath. It's how she found herself up in the Astronomy Tower tonight. With the ruckus of the ball, everything quickly became too much, and she had felt the primal urge to flee to somewhere safe. The tower had been a safe option. The stars never said much, but they twinkled as if they wanted her to know she was there, and the wind passed through the open space every so often; saying something only nature could.
A breeze blew gently through her hair and she shivered, pulling the blanket she had borrowed from the basket tighter around herself, like a shield. A tear slid slowly down her cheek, and she hadn't realised she'd been crying until now. She was curled up on one of the beanbags used for classes, staring at the sky like it held the answers she so desperately needed. Far below, she could almost imagine the laughter happening at the ball, but up here the air was still, filled with the words she could not bring herself to say and the grief that followed her constantly.
