Shakespeare's Rolling in his Grave. Probably.

Paris, Back. Off.

"Juliet!" She ignored him. Her life felt so different, and it seemed so much time had passed. It was already Christmas, and she was stuck here with a boy who used to be her best friend while her husband (thanks to Snape having a sudden memory relapse!) was in exile for killing her other best friend.

"Paris, I'm sorry. But it was never my decision to marry you. There's someone else." Hermione finally blurted out.

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Who, Juliet? And I get that this isn't magically binding since you never agreed to it, but I don't want you running off with anyone. You're mine, understand?"

She glared at him. "I am not yours! I never was, and never will be! I am in love with someone else, and though the objectification of women is one of the stupidest things a man can do, I belong to him. There's nothing you can do. Do you understand?!"

Ron shifted his jaw. "Who is he, Juliet?! I have a right to know! Tell me!" He grasped her shoulders tightly so she couldn't escape.

"My husband." She answered defiantly.

"That's not what I meant! Tell me who he is! I saw you first, Juliet. You were mine first."

Hermione wriggled free, and stepped back. "I told you, Paris. I was never yours. And I don't have to tell you, or anyone!"

He scowled at her. "Juliet, you will marry me next week. Tell me who your lover is!"

She glared back at him defiantly. "Or what, Paris? And he's not my lover! He's my husband, and so you can never truly marry me!" She backed up, then ran as fast as she could to Snape.

"Friar, isn't there anything you can do?" She asked.

Snape considered this. "I could write a letter to Romeo... but it wouldn't reach him in time... well, it might... now, what lengths are you willing to go to for him?" He asked. It was a fair question.

Hermione sighed. "Let me put it this way; I would rather face down my biggest fears than not be true to Romeo. I'd rather commit suicide than be unfaithful, even if it was not my choice, to Romeo."

Snape nodded. "So you would fake your death?"

"What good would it do? You'd kill him by bringing him into town, and I can't just stay here with you forever."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Don't worry, Juliet. I have a plan. And the Draught of Living Death."

Hermione gave him a look. "And what if Romeo doesn't get your letter?"

Snape smirked at her. "Who said I was sending a letter?" He pulled out his wand, and cast a doe Patronus, sending it off with a message for Draco. Hermione was seriously wondering how it could go wrong. And of course it would, since the whole point of this was tragedy.

Yes, Draco got Snape's patronus. But he was so drunk at the time (only partly thanks to Seamus) that when he woke up the next morning, all he remembered were fragmented sentences. "Juliet is..." "Dead, dead as a doornail." "Come to Verona..." "She will be entombed by the time you get here..." "To avoid marrying Paris." What his interpretation was that Hermione had commited suicide. To remain faitfhul to him. Couldn't imagine why... and Romeo definitely wasn't helping. Then he remembered that if he thought Hermione was dead, she wouldn't be.

Actually, it was probably Juliet's fault in the first place. Perhaps she had commited suicide, in Hermione's body, killing them both. Romeo didn't like that idea at all. He thought they should go buy some poison, and go back to Verona, and die in the Capulet tomb to be with Juliet. Draco disagreed. Romeo was crazy. They should go get the facts from Friar Lawrence (Snape) before they kill themselves. And anyway, if they truly were dead, they could always turn themselves in and be killed. Romeo begrudgingly agreed, and Draco snuck into the city that night, and went to Snape's monastery. "Friar, is Juliet truly dead?" He asked nervously.