Shakespeare's Rolling in his Grave. Probably.

Harry Goes Crazy... and so does Draco

"Benvolio! Mercutio! I haven't seen you since that party." Draco said, smiling.
Blaise laughed. "Romeo, how much wine did you have? That party was last night. Where have you been?"
Draco smiled at them. "In love, Mercutio."
Blaise looked at him carefully. "With that girl we just saw you with?"
Draco nodded. "Yup."
"Mind telling us her name?" Theodore Nott asked.

"Maybe, Benvolio... but I'm not worried about you guys stealing her."
Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Do tell. What could possibly keep her with you after she's seen me?"
Theodore and Draco laughed. "Well, marriage for one." Draco said. They both stared at him.
"You got married?!" Theodore gasped.
"Now you have to tell us who she is, and why you didn't tell us before." Blaise demanded.

Draco just smiled. "Because... I only met her yesterday. I mean, I've seen her around, and I always had a little bit of a crush on her, but yesterday... wow." Blaise and Theodore looked at each other.
"So she fell for your charm in less than a day, Romeo. Whoda thunk?" Theodore said.
Draco laughed, then sobered up."Not me. Because she still kind of... hates me. I think she's beginning to like me though... which doesn't help that we're both possessed by... I don't know. Ghosts, or something like that. Ghosts who were in love."

Blaise and Theodore looked sneakily at each other. "So... you like her. And the ghosts are pushing you together... but one thing. Why does she hate you?" Theodore asked. It obviously interfered with his plan for Romeo to have a great romance.
Draco's expression was nonchalant. "I was sort of... mean to her for most of the time I've known her."
Blaise and Theodore burst into laughter. "Romeo, this girl has the best memory I've ever seen! To have been tormented by you? That must have been in the crib!"
Draco shook his head. "No... I only met her when I was eleven..." Blaise and Theodore stared at him. "You're kidding me, right? You've been mean to a girl for four years? You, Romeo, the romanticist, who can get a girl with a wink?" Blaise asked incredulously.

Draco smiled, and leaned against the wall of a nearby house. "Yeah."
"She must have hated you before." Said Theodore with finalty.
Draco shrugged. "Well... she is a Capulet..."
"What?!!" Blaise and Theodore said at the same time.

"Are you crazy?!"
"Tybalt will kill you!"
"How close?"
"The top of the Capulet pyramid. I married Juliet."
Blaise and Theodore were speechless. "Juliet. Capulet." Blaise said slowly.
Draco nodded. "Yup."

"Well, that clears things up." Theodore muttered.
Blaise nodded. "Totally. So... how did you get married if she hates you?" Draco leaned back against the wall. "Remember the ghosts?" He said. Blaise and Theodore nodded.
"They're trying to set us up." He explained. Theodore looked slightly more enlightened. 
"So. Someone actually thinks you should marry?" A sneering voice said. Draco didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

-*-*-*-*-

"Ah, Juliet!" Remus opened the door to her room. "You remember that nice young man from the ball?" He asked her. Draco immediately popped into her head.
"Yeah..." She said suspiciously. Remus didn't ever seem to like him much.
"I realize that there were many nice boys there, so I'll just tell you I mean Paris." Remus said at her suspicious expression.
"Oh." Hermione said. Not Draco. Well, it probably wouldn't have been anyway.

"Well, he has asked for your hand in marriage!" Beamed Lupin.
"What?!" Hermione gasped.
"Now, Juliet. Paris is a respectable young man. You should have no objections to this match."
"But, Father, I don't-"
"No, Juliet. This isn't about some fairytale. And besides, you'll grow to love him." Remus said.

"But Father!" Hermione said, following him out of her room.
"No buts, Juliet!" Remus continued.
"Father-"
"No! You are marrying Paris in two weeks, and that is final." He strode away, leaving her standing there in the middle of the hall. "I'm already married." She whispered. Suddenly, a man came running in, and ran right by her to the room Remus had gone into. Apparently he was often in it.

"Lord Capulet! Come quickly! Tybalt is dead!" The man sputtered. Hermione followed them back to that little alleyway Harry had attacked the three Slytherins in. Lying dead were Blaise Zabini and Harry. Theodore Nott was talking to the Dumbledore, apprently the Prince, but came over when he saw her. "Juliet-"
"Where is he, Benvolio? Where is Romeo?" She asked.
"I know you're upset, but Tybalt-"

"No, you idiot! Is Romeo okay?!"
Theodore Nott nodded. "Yeah... he's fine... but the Prince just exiled him."
Hermione nodded. "Do you know where he's going?" She asked.
Theodore looked at her suspiciously. "Why should I trust you? You're a Capulet. You hate him."
Hermione sighed. "But that's just it. I don't. He sometimes acts just like Tybalt when he's condescending, but I like him. Maybe even-"
Theodore stopped her. "Don't. Not here. And Tybalt's-"

"Dead. I know. Romeo killed him for killing Mercutio." Hermione said bitterly. Theodore nodded, and drifted back to the Prince. Hermione walked over to Harry slowly, and burst into tears. She understood Juliet's reasoning now. Her cousin was dead, her husband was gone, and who knew when he would return? And if he did, he'd die too. And she couldn't just up and leave her grieving parents alone, could she? No. She couldn't. "Father." She sobbed, hugging Remus tight. He patted her on the back. "It's okay, Juliet. It's okay..."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"My secret died with them."
"It wasn't much of a secret. And there's still Benvolio and Juliet."
"Ha. Yeah. But I can tell the I'm never going to see Benvolio again, and Juliet's going to die soon."
"Whoa, somebody's pessimisstic." Draco glared at Seamus Finnegan, another exile, who had labeled them 'drinking buddies', something he was sure Shakespeare did not come up with.
"You've never been in love with your family's rival family's daughter."
Seamus smiled at him. "You've got it bad." He managed to get out without too much slurring.

Draco looked at him with contempt. "And you're stone drunk. What's it to you?" He got up and left Seamus there. He had done what he promised Hermione he wouldn't do. He had killed Harry Potter. Too bad Draco wasn't a Death Eater. Voldemort would either torture him mercilessly, or reward him greatly. Draco stuck his hands in his pockets. Christmastime in Northern Italy meant snow. Light snow, but snow. Great. He hadn't realized it was so close to Christmas when they left. I mean, yes, he and Hermione were about to leave for Christmas Break, but it had crept up on him. Nearby, children sang carols. He thought about glaring at them, he honestly did.

It was Christmas, and his only company was a drunk Gryffindor. And not even the right Gryffindor. He put those thoughts out of his head, as if those children were highly trained in Legilimens, and he didn't want to spoil their innocence. It was Christmas, and he couldn't see his parents, his wife, his friend, because of a mistake that was only partly his.