Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair England, 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.
In the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts, during the seventh year of The Boy Who Lived, a fight of enormous proportions was breaking out. The Gryffindors and Slytherins hated each other more than words could say, and had cost members of the opposite house more deducted house points, hospital wing visits, and detentions than could be counted on two hands and feet. During this fine October afternoon, tempers were being tested in a very brutal way.
"What did you say?!" yelled Gryffindor Ron Weasley. Ron was a typical Gryffindor. Everyone of his family members to walk through the walls of Hogwarts had belonged to this house, of which Ron was Prefect.
"I said your girlfriend is a fithly little mudblood, Weasley!" Slytherin Blaise Zabini sneered over his shoulder, doing a remarkable yet unconvincing impression of the Head Boy at his snobbiest.
"That's it!" Ron launched himself at Blaise, who was all too eager to fight back. Soon, more people were joining in on what was becoming a full-scale war. Gryffindors Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan were struggling to take on Malcolm Baddock and Graham Pritchard, the Slytherin cronies. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown (Gryffindors) had pinned Millicent Bulstrode to the ground and were obsessively pulling out her hair, while Millicent attempted to claw their eyes out. Theodore Nott, a slim Slytherin second-year, had levitated Neville Longbottom to the ceiling, who in turn was sending down a shower of curses to the floor, none of which did any good, or even hit their targets.
"Stop!" cried Gryffindor Hermione Granger. "I am Head Girl, and I order you all to stop this instant!"
"Oh, put a sock in it, Granger," yelled Pansy Parkinson, who had just arrived on the scene. Hermione had been having a rough day, and she wasn't in the mood for being nice. She turned around lightning fast and punched Pansy in the jaw so hard that the Slytherin was thrown all the way across the Entrance Hall. Pansy stood up and took out her wand, beginning to make use of a wide library of curses.
At the entrance to the Slytherin dungeons, Head Boy Draco Malfoy leaned casually against the wall. Draco was, if anything, the typical Slytherin. Draco was one of the few people who had been sorted into his house before the Sorting Hat had even touched his white-blond head. He was brought up in a family of Dark Wizards; they had all believed that Hogwarts should be kept for the pureblood families, and Draco was no exception.
Draco regarded the scene, not sure if he should join in on what looked to be the largest Inter-House battle to take place in all his seven years at Hogwarts. Normally he would beeline towards Harry Potter, The Boy WHo Lived, and commence pounding (or cursing) him into oblivion. But Draco was in no mood to fight today. As though his archnemesis was reading his mind, Draco spotted Harry across the way at the staircase, looking equally as gloomy as Draco felt, if not more. They made eye contact, and simply nodded at each other, a silent agreement of momentary peace. It was just as well. Draco had other places to be.
The battle continued. Malcolm and Graham had overtaken Dean and Seamus, who were now struggling to be free of their grip. Millicent had large chunks of hair missing from her scalp, while Lavender and Parvati sported long scrapes where Millicent had made use of her long nails. Neville was thrashing about madly, and Theodore, easily the youngest there, squealed in delight. Blaise and Ron were rolling around on the floor, each with swollen lips and black eyes. Hermione and Pansy were sending rapid-fire curses at each other in flashed of red, blue, and purple lights.
"STOP!!!" a commanding voice shouted from the entrance to the Great Hall. The battle froze in place, completely still, except for Neville falling from the ceiling as Theodore stopped concentrating. The Deputy Headmistress, Transfiguration teacher, and head of Gryffindor House, Professor Minerva McGonagall stood in the doorway, scowling, with her hands on her hips. She surveyed the freeze-frame battle with pursed lips.
"You all know I enjoy a little rivalry between Houses, but this has gone far enough. The past two years have been simply madness! None of the other Houses argue nearly as much as you do. I expected better from all of you! And you, Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall turned her sharp eyes to Hermione. "I expected a higher level of propriety from our Head Girl." She paused again, glaring at each of them in turn. Her lips were pressed thinner than anyone had ever seen. "Never in all my years of teacher have I seen anything quite like this. I don't care who started it, Fifty points from both your houses and week's worth of detention for all of you! Don't try to sneak away, Mr. Nott, I see you there in the corner." Theodore at least had the grace to look guilty. "Now, move along before I feel the urge to start deducting even more House points!"
The Professor stalked off, and the crowd slowly began to unfreeze and disperse.
In the dark shadows of the Entrance Hall, Ginerva Weasley stood up and gathered her school things, having come with her brother Ron from the library. She didn't like fighting, and was especially glad she hadn't joined in this time. Ginny was a Sixth year Gryffindor, and thought to be one of the most beautiful girls in the school (along with the Patil twins and a Ravenclaw named Emma Watson). Her fiery red hair perfectly matched her feisty attitude, stubborn but gentle. Her chocolatey brown eyes, normally alight with joy, were dull and tired. Ginny leaned against the wall with a sigh. Something was bothering her, though no one knew exactly what it was.
Hermione, fixing the tapestry many of her curses had hit, spotted Ginny moping in the corner. She tucked her wand into a pocket and walked over, putting a friendly arm around the younger girl's shoulder.
"Something wrong, Ginny?" She thought of Ginny as a younger sister and great friend. Ginny let out another sigh. "You know you can tell me anything."
"I know, it's just..." she paused, not sure whether or not to continue. "Promise not to tell anyone? And I mean anyone. Especially not Ron or - "
"Harry?" Hermione finished for her.
"Yes, most importantly not Harry."
Hermione hugged Ginny lightly. "Of course I won't tell anyone, Gin. What do you take me for?" She grinned, encouraging her to continue.
"Remember how I used to... er... worship Harry? And then I stopped?"
"Yes..."
"Well... I guess I didn't really... I mean... Oh Hermione!" Ginny buried her face in her hands, slightly ashamed of what she was admitting. "I thought it was just a phase, I thought I just liked him because I worshipped him from the time I was three... But it's not that, not anymore. I just..."
"I know how you feel. I've had my share of unrequited love." Hermione sighed. "That must be awful... since he's so moody all the time. He's got a lot on his mind. He doesn't sleep much anymore, and when he does he wakes up screaming."
"I know, it was all Ron talked about over the summer, how he's worried about him. And I couldn't stop thinking about him too..." Ginny picked at a loose thread in her shabby robes. "I don't want to fall in love with him, but I can't help it!"
"Hey Ginny... are you coming to the Halloween Masquerade?"
Ginny shrugged. "I wasn't going to. I'm not really in the mood to prance about in a fancy dress and a mask. I'd much rather wallow in my own self-pity."
Hermione began to walk Ginny back up to the common room. "Ginny, you really should. It'll be fun! We can laugh at Ron trying to dance and failing miserably!" There was a hint of wistfulness in that last sentence.
"Hermione, I don't have a dress, a mask, or a date..."
"Dean said he wasn't going with anyone. You could see if he could take you, just for the sake of going with someone. And I have an idea for the dress."
"I still don't know..."
"Harry will be there."
"I'm going."
Meanwhile, in the dungeons below Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy made himself comfortable in the sitting room of Professor Severus Snape. Severus was the Potions master and Head of Slytherin House, as well as having a close acquaintance with Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy. They both shared a similar relationship with Lucius - They pretended to love him, but in actuality hated his guts. This illicit hatred had brought them close together, as Lucius Malfoy was also using Snape as his private correspondent. This was advantageous to everyone involved - Lucius believed he was free to talk about Death Eater activity, Snape was alerted of any plans for Draco before they happened so he could possibly alter them, and Dumbledore was kept in the know about Voldemort's plans for his young prodigy.
"So, what did he say again?" Draco was poking the fire and not really listening to Severus.
The Professor glared at the blond boy. "I said, you are to be married to Pansy Parkinson by the end of the year. Love, Daddy."
Draco threw the poker onto the hearth, and leaned backwards onto the rug. "I wish he would let me make my own decisions for once." He absentmindedly picked at a scab on his thumb. "Since when do I have to marry who he chooses? And by the end of the year! Is that even legal?"
Snape sat down in a black armchair near the fire. "Yes, it is legal, and to answer your other question, since the day you were born. Well, actually, since the day she was born, Parkinson's younger than you by two months. He promised you as her husband to Mr. Parkinson, another stupid thing he did to gain power in the Ministry. Not that there is any correlation between the two, but that's Lucius Malfoy for you." He glanced at the young Malfoy, and felt sorry for him. It must be hard to have no control over your life, he thought. I chose to become a Death Eater - a rather stupid decision, looking back on it, but a decision nonetheless.
"I'll try to delay the wedding as much as possible. Dumbledore's not concerned with that, neither am I, really, we're more concerned about you and those few other Slytherins joining the Death Eaters."
Draco sat up. "That's another thing. When do they expect me to take the Mark?"
"No idea. I joined when I was twenty. Sometime soon, I expect. The Dark Lord wants to use you to spy at Hogwarts. And you, of course, will not be as eager to bend to his will as it seems. We are also trying to delay that as long as possible."
"Well, that's just brilliant. I have to get married before I leave school, and become a Death Eater before I get married. Bloody brilliant." Draco's gray eyes were cold and empty. He had become hardened to any emotion but anger, having been brought up by a family that didn't know the meaning of the word love. Had his father known that raising the boy to be a Death Eater would make Draco resent him and wish to rebel in every way, Lucius might have done things differently. But Lucius was as bad at being a father as Voldemort at being a saint.
"Draco, I'm doing the best I can. For now, I want you to worry about the things a normal seventh year is supposed to worry about. Go to the Masque tomorrow, dance with a few girls, have fun. I'll deal with your father later."
"I don't dance."
Snape shrugged. "Neither do I, but I must say I enjoy watching other people make fools of themselves. Go eat something."
"I'm not hungry."
"Yes you are."
"If you say so, Professor."
A/N: Myself and the lovely Transcendancer would like to thank our lovely beta reader, JJ. Without her, people would be sitting in a couch instead of on a couch. Also, credit should be given to the two geniuses who inspired this story: the lovely Mrs. Jo Rowling and our good friend Willy Shakespeare. Stay tuned for chapter two, where a Halloween Ball turns the school upside down.