the unhallowed affair - t.m.r

arrivée

"arrival"

July Third, 1945

The strong July sun slowly bled into their compartment, but the warmth Juliette felt enveloping her body was not from it.

The first thing she noticed was how his breathing matched hers. The second thing she noticed was how serene his features were when he was asleep. His white t-shirt was quite loose on him, and the neckline was very worn.

She wasn't surprised that she woke up next to him. Of course, there was only one makeshift bed, so it was a given.

Juliette sat up slowly, Preston's arms falling to her hips lazily in his sleep. Her blonde locks were thick, and her hair was surely messy. Instinctively, her hands reached up to smooth her hair, and her eyes drifted down to the boy next to her. She smiled softly at the thought of him coming back into their car, keeping quiet as not to wake her.

She leaned over him, gently placing her arm on his shoulder. "Preston? I hate to wake you, but I don't know where we are... or when our stop is." She whispered.

The boy stirred, his grey eyes opening slowly, processing what the blonde had said. "Fuck," he mumbled, moving to sit up. "Juliette, can you ask someone where we currently are for me, darling?"

Juliette nodded, standing from the bed and floating through the main hall. Making her way to the dining car, she quickly asked the man behind a bar what country they were currently in.

"We are just south of Lyon, miss." The young man responded with a shy smile.

Her heart raced at the thought of being back home. She hadn't known Lyon summers since she was a small child, no more than nine years old, so she really didn't remember it.

Of course, she imagined it was much nicer than it was in London. Lyon was compacted, however it was never as crowded as London was. It felt so much brighter in France, even in the winter. She couldn't see herself surviving through an England winter. She hated winter no matter where she was, but judging from how her relatives have talked about it, a London winter to her sounded like Hell.

London- to her- was for the academics. The scholars, the professors, the ambitious and envious. It was for secrets. France, however, was for the dreamers. The people who dreamed of busy shops and elite life, the ones who wanted to be known, or the ones who escaped to the countryside, their only companions being the sun and the animals that roamed the fields.

Thanking the bartender, she made her way to the nearest window in a daze- hoping to find even a sliver of a view of her home.

While the leader of the Regime was found dead a few months back, the war was not over. Not for the soldiers, the civilians, and certainly not for the people who possessed magical abilities. Of course, the war against Grindelwald was nowhere near as severe, if anything the muggle war made wizards even more determined to stop him.

She stared, hoping the mountains would fade to reveal some sign of human life, whether it be a cabin or a whole town, but so far, nothing. Only endless mountains.

"Lyon, near the Italian border, is it not, my love?" A voice cut in behind her.

Startled, Juliette turned around to face the all too familiar voice. Preston gave her a soft smile, the sunlight warming his cold grey eyes. "You're not going to hit me again, are you?"

Juliette blushed, remembering how her anger got the best of her. His dorky smile grew in response.

"I'll take that as a yes?" He titled his head, moving closer to her. She turned back to face the window, his hand resting on her back. "Italy is a beautiful place," Preston spoke. "Have you ever been?"