Shakespeare's Rolling in his Grave. Probably.

Friar Lawrence, ... and the Balcony

"How are we going to avoid getting married under dubious, really dubious circumstances? I mean, according to you, Granger, all I do is show up at this party, done, we instantly fall for each other, not happening in a million years, and then I show up under your balcony while you're spouting all this nonsense about me being Romeo. Honestly. If you don't like my name, just keep calling me Malfoy. Gets you through the day. And then I start going on about how I hate my name, which I don't. And then, we somehow end up with me saying, 'okay, sure. Let's get married tomorrow. Send your nurse to find me sometime tomorrow morning. I don't plan on sleeping.'" Malfoy complained.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We can't avoid it. We're going to die, and worse, we're going to get married."

He held up his hands in protest. "Hey, Granger, marriage is no picnic, but its preferable to dying. You need to sort out your priorities. Same goes for Juliet. Her cousin dies, and her husband's exiled, and she weeps over the husband. And besides... your dress is a little low in front." She slapped him hard.

"Asshole." She muttered, pulling up the dress's scooping neckline as much as she could. He rubbed his cheek.

"Granger, is that any way to treat your fiancé?" He asked mockingly.

She glared at him. "Say that again, and your other cheek will sting too. And anyway, as far as anyone here knows, I'm marrying Paris. Who at least I like as a friend."

He clasped his free hand over his heart. "Granger, you wound me to the core. What happened to the star crossed lovers?"

Hermione frowned. "So, you're saying you endorse this."

"Yes. Wait, what? No! I think-" His face reset entirely, so he was just gently teasing her. She looked at him, and saw that his eyes were lovestruck.

"Okay... Malfoy, are you alright?"

He picked up her hand. "Never better, my sweet Juliet."

She snatched it back. "Okay. Romeo's obviously taken over. Malfoy, snap out of it! You're no use to anyone if you are all lovestruck and googly-eyed."

He cocked his head, and she sighed. "First year, you got us busted for that dragon, remember? And you had to go into the Forbidden Forest with us. And in second year? You called me a Mudblood for the first time and Ron, hey, I said it, ended up barfing up slugs when he tried to hex you and his wand backfired. Remember, Malfoy? Remember how you bought your way onto the Quidditch team, and I got petrified by the basilisk? And in third year, when I struck you? And Buckbeak almost killed you? And last year, when Professor Moody turned out to be-"

"Barty Crouch Jr. Thanks, Granger. That was seriously scary." He said, shaking his head.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, sure. 'Never better, my sweet Juliet.' And then you grabbed my hand! Scary for you? It was downright bizarre for me!"

He smirked at her. "I can't wait until its your turn to be Juliet. And I didn't buy my way onto the team."

She raised an eyebrow. "And they all got new Nimbus 2001's. The exact same year you got on the team. Curious."

He laughed. "Okay, you got me there."

She looked at him carefully. "Are you okay?" She asked uncertainly.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you laughed at my sarcasm. And you haven't called me Mudblood in a while. And you're getting that look in your eyes again..."

She scooted away from him. Then something came over her, and she scooted back. "Oh Romeo."

"Oh Juliet." Inwardly, Hermione and Malfoy were both screaming and yelling.