A/N: And the story goes on

A/N: And the story goes on… heh.

Romeo, Romeo…

Harry stuck his head cautiously around the corner of the door, peeking at the crowd gathered in the Great Hall. He was slightly surprised by the size. "Why are there so many people?" he muttered to Seamus between clenched teeth, an attempt to keep his roiling stomach in check.

Seamus shrugged. "How would I know?" he replied and grabbed Harry's sleeve to pull the other boy into the room. Students stood alone or in small groups and Harry caught bits of conversation as they passed. The general air of excitement was obvious as the students recited lines from the play, with varying degrees of success. Seamus, much to Harry's dismay, passed these groups and dragged him right up front, only inches from the teachers' dais, before turning away to talk to a blonde boy on his left.

Harry shook his head and turned away. A part of him, well, most of him, wanted nothing more than to leave and not look back. Damn Seamus and his puppy dog eyes anyway! He was so deep in thought that Harry didn't realize he'd been staring at the chest in front of him until he'd already pissed off its owner, and a dry voice asked, "I know that you're not used to it, but Potter, really. My shirt isn't that clean."

Harry rolled his eyes and glared up. There was nothing like a good dose of Malfoy's constant ill-humor to sour a day. And if your day was already going badly, it was proof that things could, in fact, get worse. "Malfoy," Harry said with his usual venom before curiosity prompted him to ask, "What are you doing here?"

Malfoy looked down his nose at him and sneered, "I should think that was obvious." Harry grit his teeth. This was why they could never have a decent conversation. Malfoy was always so condescending! "I'm trying out for the play," the other boy finished.

"I can see that," Harry said, not bothering to hide his irritation. "Why are you trying out?"

Malfoy shrugged casually. "Believe it or not, Potter, I do enjoy theatre, and I happen to be rather good at acting."

"You'd have to be to hang out with Deatheaters on a regular basis," Harry remarked, keeping his voice low so he would hardly be heard over the din of the crowd.

He felt rather than saw the glare that Malfoy leveled at him, and long moments passed in silence before the blond finally replied. "Yes, that is a convenient skill. For example, right now, I'm acting as if I don't want to toss your disemboweled carcass to the giant squid."

Harry looked over, studying the other boy quietly. "You're not a very good actor, after all," he commented calmly, not the slightest cowed. He could see Malfoy's eyes widen slightly. Then came the small twitch, at the corner of his lips, followed by another.

Harry couldn't believe it. Malfoy was fighting back a smile. From something he'd said! Apparently losing the war with his humor, Malfoy spun on his heel and walked away just as Professor Trelawney glided into the room, Professor Binns only feet behind. Harry wondered why he was surprised that she was involved. Trelawney did have a flair for the melodramatic.

"Welcome," the woman said airily and scanned the room. Harry knew when her owl-eyes landed on him, he could feel it, and grimaced. "Mr. Potter!" she exclaimed. "You will, of course be playing the role of Romeo."

"What?!" Harry cried out, over the groans and cheers from the crowd. "Professor! I haven't even tried out!" he protested, climbing on the dais to plead with the woman. "I suck! Really, I do! Couldn't I just be Benvolio? Or better yet, one of the chorus?"

She waved an airy hand. "Nonsense!" Trelawney replied. "I have seen that you will be a perfect Romeo!" Harry's jaw dropped as she dismissed him to call forward the auditions for Juliet. He turned to beg Professor Binns only to find the ghost, scroll in hand, already writing him in as the lead.

Knowing he was overruled, Harry sat with a sigh, head in hands as he dangled his feet over the edge. He didn't lift his head through the auditions, and listened with only half an ear as Trelawney and Binns selected players for the remaining roles.

Eventually, he felt a hand on his knee and looked up to find an ecstatic Seamus smiling up at him. "I'm Mercutio!" the sandy-haired boy exclaimed. "Isn't it absolutely perfect?" Harry nodded half-heatedly.

Chancing a look around the room, Harry noticed that the crowd had thinned considerably. The professors were gone and a parchment hung from the wall. "That's the cast list," Seamus explained and dragged Harry over for a brief look. Harry nodded at it, not really focusing on the names and followed Seamus through the Great Hall to Gryffindor Tower, aware that the boy was talking but not actually hearing anything that was being said. His mind was far too busy with more important things, like how to get out of the play.

As soon as the portrait opened, however, Harry realized that wouldn't be possible. It seemed like everybody in the house was there, applauding as he walked in. The Creevey brothers snapped photographs as students took turns shaking Harry's hand. "I heard you beat out Malfoy," a particularly excited voice informed him. "You'll be amazing, Harry!" he was told more than once.

Harry sighed, used to the attention, and started toward the stairs, and the silence of his room. Eventually he reached them, his back having become rather sore and probably covered with a few more bruises than a good fall from a broom would provide, and escaped to bury his head beneath his pillow.

He took a deep breath and screamed. Somehow, that did not seem enough, so he did it again, kicking his feet against the mattress for good measure. Five minutes did the trick, and when Seamus bounded in the door ten minutes later, Harry was lying back, a copy of the script in front of him, though he wasn't actually reading it, and feeling as though the world was a tad bit more fair than it was when he'd come up here. He raised his brows at his friend.

"I just wanted to warn you that Hermione's coming up," Seamus grinned. The words were hardly through his lips when he was shoved, rather violently, out of the way and Hermione shot across the room, Ron following behind at a more sedate pace.

Harry had enough time to wonder at the irony of that before Hermione set in, gushing over Harry's new role. "Romeo!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands together. "Oh, Harry, Trelawney was right, and you'll never hear me say that again! You'll be a great Romeo!" She sighed. "Dark and emo-ish! Perfect."

Harry's eyes met with Ron's as the other boy sat on the end of his own bed. Emo-ish? Ron shrugged, and Harry turned his attention back to the girl. "I'm no actress, of course," she was saying, seemingly oblivious to Ron and Harry's silent exchange, "but I'll be the stage manager."

Harry sighed with relief. "Great," he said aloud and smiled at Hermione. "So you can help me remember all these lines."

Predictably, Hermione put him right to work. It wasn't until an hour later, when Seamus was talking to Ron as they played a round of chess, not that the Irish boy would ever be stupid enough to bet money on it, that Harry got the answer to the question that had been burning in the back of his mind. "Harry and I were talking about how many people were there," Seamus remarked casually as he moved his bishop forward. "I thought I'd be a shoo-in for at least some role, but then I saw that crowd. Wasn't too sure anymore, I tell ya."

"And why wouldn't there be any people there?" Hermione asked, using her best Know-It-All voice. "After all, William Shakespeare was a wizard."

Ron looked at her blankly. "Was he really?" Hermione rolled her eyes, ignoring the red-head in favor of flipping through the script.

A/N: That's all for now. I love reviews so send me some! Please and Thank you! Oh, and thanks to kimmi, brionyjae, suddon, and BladeMaxwell-GoddessofDeath, for the reviews on the first chapter.