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Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;
Whole misadventured piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents' strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
And the continuance of their parents' rage,
Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
-Romeo and Juliet, Act I Prologue




Sunlight-colored tulips sprouted along the vivid fields, making the cloudless azure sky seem even bluer. Lavender hyacinths grew around the underbrush. The sun beamed upon the entire city, spreading its rays across the fields. Pretty little birds chirped whilst flying from tree to tree, gathering twigs in their tiny beaks. Throughout the near silence, two figures stood at the edge of the fields, chatting together.

“I hate this heat,” one of them complained. He had sandy brown hair that he brushed out of his sweaty forehead almost reverently. “Damn those Weasleys, sending us out here to check and see that the fields were alright. I don’t bloody believe the fields would be wrong, do you?”

The other, much darker than the first, grinned, “Seamus, it’s our job. Stop complaining. Maybe we’ll see a brawl out here, who knows?”

“A brawl,” Seamus repeated skeptically. “Do you hear what you’re saying? Do you really expect the Malfoys to come out to these rotten fields for the fun of it?” Sweat was radiating from his fingertips now. Dean stood next to him, examining the fields as he was ordered to do. Why did Seamus have such a problem with doing his work?

“I spy a Malfoy,” Dean finally said, looking high above the golden tulips and over to where two men stood. “Two of them, actually. And they’re approaching,” he observed.

“What should we do?” Seamus asked eagerly. “Shall I frown? No, that’s far too cowardly! I shall bite my thumb at them,” he decided quickly. “They can decide to handle it however they wish.” He nodded, not noticing Dean roll his eyes.

“I’m just going to frown,” Dean said, although Seamus wasn’t listening. He was staring at the two others who were crossing the fields at a rapid pace.

“What a disgrace!” Seamus exclaimed. “They’re ruining the tulips.”

“You didn’t seem to care so much a few moments ago,” Dean reminded him, a frown still visible on his face. “We’ll just make sure that they pay for it, that’s all. The Malfoys probably wouldn’t mind sparing a few of their many Galleons.” Dean glanced over to see Seamus bite his thumb as the two servants passed by.

One noticed immediately. “Do you bite your thumb at us?” the larger of the two asked, glaring at Seamus with his beady eyes.

“I do bite my thumb,” Seamus responded conversationally. “Got a problem with it?” he asked, as threateningly as he could.

“But do you bite your thumb at us?” the larger asked.

Seamus looked over at Dean to see his approval. Dean shook his head, and Seamus replied, “No, but I do bite my thumb.” The two servants of the house of Malfoy looked at each other and exchanged strange looks.

“Do you fight?” Dean asked the two, whose names he remembered as Gregory and Vincent. They were large men, as Dean and Seamus seemed to be quite a bit shorter. But Dean was secretly sure that Seamus and he were the smartest of the four.

“Fight? No,” Gregory replied rapidly, his eyebrows raising high enough to be hidden by his hair.

“If you do,” Seamus began, no longer biting his thumb, “I do just as well as you.” Seamus grinned to himself. He enjoyed this sort of fighting – verbal but not physical… yet.

“No better,” was Gregory’s remark.

Dean cast Seamus a look and Seamus commented, “Yes, better.”

Gregory’s nostrils flared dangerously. “You lie,” he hissed, drawing his wand from his pocket. Dean’s eyes widened, but Seamus drew out his wand skillfully. He had been practicing. Seamus raced over to where Gregory stood and slashed his wand in the air.

Gregory swished his wand in the air and shouted, “Stupefy!” Seamus dodged the attack and it landed in the tulip fields.

“I’m – much – better,” Seamus growled. Gregory took fast steps backwards to get momentum for his next attack. Seamus took the opportunity to strike. He lifted his wand and shouted, “Sectum” -

“STOP!”

Seamus would have done with Gregory if not for the sudden intrusion of Harry Potter. He didn’t lower his wand, but kept it in midair. He could have won this fight and won some respect from the Weasleys, surely. Harry beat down his and Gregory’s wand with a sharp movement and snapped, “You don’t know what you guys are doing. I don’t think…”

“Why are you all drawn?” Ron roared, making his appearance known a few paces away from Harry. Ron noted his presence and said shortly, “Come and fight me, Harry. It’ll be your death.” Harry hastily noted that Ron’s temper was as fiery as his hair.

“I wasn’t fighting,” Harry explained, using his left hand to ruffle his hair while holding his wand in the other. “I was merely trying to keep the peace.” He realized with a jolt that holding a wand and saying that wasn’t going to sound believable.

“Keep the peace with a drawn wand?” Ron repeated, with a laugh. “Likely story,” he remarked. Harry moved to put away his wand. “Keep your wand drawn and fight me,” Ron growled. Harry did so, and soon enough they were at battle. Spells were being cast every which way. Dean ducked as a purple burst of light flew towards him.

“More people are showing up to watch the fray,” Dean whispered to Seamus, who was still panting from his fight with Gregory. “I reckon this’ll get out to the Prince.” He shuffled his feet absentmindedly and nodded at a few townsfolk yelling, “Down with Malfoys!”

“Is that the Weasleys?” Seamus asked, motioning his head toward the red-headed couple walking down the cobbled path that led to the tulip fields. “Must be, I can see their red hair for miles,” he added as an afterthought. “Look, he’s drawing his wand…”

“Look!” Dean pointed towards the opposite side, where the Malfoys were walking along the dirt path. “Malfoy looks aggravated. And Lady Malfoy seems to just be soaking up the sun – she’s so pale…”

“Villain Weasley,” Malfoy snarled, “why do you draw your wand? Do you desire a fight?” He ran a hand through his long silvery-blond hair and lifted his chin to observe the fight.

“Don’t you dare go seek out a fight,” Lady Malfoy hissed into his ear. She held onto his arm tightly and forbade him from moving any closer to the Weasleys. “We do not want to start a brawl on these streets.” Malfoy eased his body and slid his wand back into his robes. Instantly Lady Malfoy loosened her grip on him.

“What is going on here?” a booming voice yelled over the commotion of the spell-fight and cheers. “Commence all actions now!” Harry and Ron withdrew their wands. Harry had blood running down his cheek – Ron had gotten a cheap Sectumsempra shot in – while Ron hadn’t suffered a single blow.

“Next time I’ll finish you off,” Ron promised, reluctantly putting away his wand. “You can count on it.” He wiped his sweaty face with the back of his hand and turned to face the booming voice that happened to be the heartthrob of every girl in Verona. “Prince Cedric,” he murmured in disgust.

Cedric looked over his disheveled appearance and folded his arms crossly. “This is the third brawl between the house of Weasley and Malfoy,” he started, staring at Malfoy and Weasley with equal intensity. “Three is enough. The next time you,” he paused to look at Ron and Harry, “disturb the peace of Verona, it’ll be your life.”

Ron looked flabbergasted. Cedric continued, “Yes, the next to start the attack will pay with their life. Weasley, you come with me. Malfoy – I’ll see you later this afternoon. Now, all of you must leave this field. Find some other place to do your work.” Weasley and Lady Weasley followed him out, and the unwilling townspeople departed.

“Who started the brawl in the first place?” Malfoy asked. “Were you around when it began, Harry?” He jabbed his scepter into the dirt firmly and twisted it around idly. Lady Malfoy leaned her head against his shoulder, her hair shining with the gleam of the yellow sunlight.

“Some servants from the Weasley side,” Harry answered, waving his hand around, “started it. I came to make peace,” he felt the scratch along his cheekbone and winced, “but Ron thought I was trying to fight. He started the fray between us, and it wouldn’t have ended if the Prince hadn’t come along. Or the end might have had more disastrous results than just a scratch.”

“Have you seen my Draco?” Lady Malfoy interrupted. Her voice was strained as if she had been wondering it all day, but hadn’t the heart to ask her husband about it. Her cold eyes were flooded with worry for her son. “He hasn’t been acting like himself lately,” she added, covering her mouth with her hand.

“I saw him this morning by the sycamore grove,” Harry stated, wishing he could say something more to comfort Lady Malfoy, “but he didn’t want to talk with me. Sorry I couldn’t be more of a help,” he sighed. He wiped his face with his sleeve, noticing the fact that sweat was dripping off of his nose. He could really use a bath right now. He didn’t want to revolt the Malfoys by smelling like blood and sweat.

“He’s been hiding in his room for a long time at home,” Malfoy assented. “He makes himself some artificial night and I can hear him sigh throughout the day. I wish I knew what was wrong with him. I’ve tried to get him to tell me, but he doesn’t talk very much.” He brushed off dust from his clothes and shook his head sadly.

“Have you tried every possible way to get it out of him?” Harry questioned curiously. “I know you haven’t talked to me about it before now.”

Malfoy nodded. “I’ve tried with his other friends, but they don’t know or won’t tell me. I wish I knew. Maybe I could help him or at least know where his sorrows come from.” He looked over to the swaying fields as the wind picked up and sent a nice breeze drifting along.

“There he is,” Harry noted. “I’ll try to figure out what’s wrong with him. You can go.” The Malfoys left without further ado. Harry watched as Malfoy’s cloak billowed with the wind before he turned his attentions to Draco. His posture was slumped and his lips formed a fine line. His eyelids drooped toward the ground, barely looking up to see Harry standing by. “Good morrow, cousin.”

Draco lifted his head. “Is the day so young?” His voice was so quiet Harry could barely hear him. His eyes seemed watery and his mouth was curved in a frown. He swept some of his silvery hair out of his eyes. “Sad hours seem so long. Was that my father just a few moments ago?”

“It just struck nine,” Harry said, running a hand through his raven colored hair. “It was your father. And what sadness do you bear?” Apparently Draco was in one of those moods again – he hadn’t even noticed the scrape on Harry’s cheek. Draco usually spotted things before one would mention them, but today he seemed out of it.

“Not having what makes the hours seem short,” Draco said slowly.

Harry finally understood what he was saying. “In love?” he inquired.

“Out” –

“Of love?” he interrupted.

“Of her favor, where I am in love,” Draco finished, not appreciating Harry’s interlude. “Was there a fray here?” he questioned quickly, moving to view Harry’s scratch better. “This was out of hate, wasn’t it, with the Weasleys? Do not answer – I’ve heard it all. Brawling love and loving hate…” he started, only to see the childish look on Harry’s face. “Why are you laughing?” he snapped.

“Not laughing,” Harry elaborated, “for I’d rather weep at your broken heart. Sadly tell me, who is that you love.” He hoped he’d get a response from Draco, but it didn’t seem like he was going to give any hint.

“What else would I do – groan and tell you?” he remarked sarcastically. “In sadness, Harry, I do love a woman.” He sighed dejectedly.

“I thought so when I asked who you loved,” Harry said and rolled his eyes. This was going to take a while.

“And she’s fair,” he added. “She’s smart, rich in beauty, but poor. She’ll not spread her beauty elsewhere for she’s sworn to be chaste. Her fairness will not pass on to future generations,” he finished miserably.

“Forget about her,” was Harry’s immediate reply.

“How should I forget to think?” Draco asked exasperatedly.

“Examine other beauties.”

“But none are as fair as her,” Draco said convincingly. “If I were blinded I could not forget the sight that blinded me. Her beauty is exquisite. You can’t teach me to forget.”

“I’ll find a way, or else die in debt.”

Author’s Note: Okay, this play is based on Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare, except changed to Harry Potter-themed because of a challenge I am doing. I hope you all enjoyed this. Please review with your opinions! A bunch of the quotations are from the actual play.

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