Moulin Rouge... Harry Potter version.
I've always wanted to do this and well... I had too much fun writing it. Very crack-tastic.
Pairings are: Harry/Draco and Snape/Draco.
Casting:
Christian- Harry
Satine- Draco
The Duke- Serverus Snape
Zidler- Lucius Malfoy
Toulouse- Ron
Enjoy :) Criticism very welcome! "There was a boy A little shy, And then one day Fools and Kings
-
A very strange, enchanted boy.
They say he wondered very far...
very far...
over land and sea.
and sad of eye
But very wise...
was he...
a magic day
he passed my way...
and we spoke of many things:
This he said to me:
The greatest thing...
You'll ever learn...
is just to love...
and be loved...
in return."
A young man sits at a typewriter. He stares at the machine, eyes broken and lifeless. The man raises one hand heavily and rests it on the typewriter, at first just stroking the keys, feeling them, running his fingers over the curves and dips. Finally lifting the other hand the man slowly, methodically, begins to type. Stark black letters begin to formulate across the yellowing pages. The man tells his story:
The Moulin Rouge: A night club; a dance hall at the bordello, ruled over by Lucius Malfoy; Kingdom of night-time pleasures; where the rich come to play with the beautiful creatures of the underworld. The most beautiful of all these, was the man I loved.
Draco.
A courtesan, He sold his love to men. They called him, "The Sparkling Diamond". And he was the star of the Moulin Rouge.
The man I loved is-
The man hesitates. A single tear falls on his typewriter as he forces the word down on paper.
The man I loved is dead.
I first came to Paris one year ago. It was 1899, the summer of love. I knew nothing of the Moulin Rouge, Lucius Malfoy, or Draco. The world had been swept up in the Bohemian Revolution, and I had traveled from London to be apart of it. On the hill near Paris was the village of Montmartre. It was not as my father had said, ("A village of sin!") but the center of the Bohemian world. Musicians, Painters, Writers!
They were known as the "Children of the Revolution"
Yes, I had come to live a penniless existence. I had come to write about truth, beauty, freedom, and that which I believed in above all things, love. ("Always this ridicules obsession with love!" My father had said) There was only one problem:
I've never been in love!
Luckily, right at that moment, an unconscious Argentinian fell through my roof. He was quickly followed by a dwarf dressed as a nun.
"How do you do?" said the nun "My name is Ron Fred Charlie George Bill Percival Weasley."
Ron smiled "Terribly sorry about all this, we're just upstairs rehearsing a play."
"What?" I shouted. A play! Something very modern called "Spectacular!, Spectacular!"
"It's set in Switzerland." the Argentinian said.
Unfortunately the unconscious Argentinian suffered from a sickness called Narcolepsy.
"Perfectly fine one moment-" Ron (the Argentinian dressed as a nun) imitated loud snoring "Then unconscious the next." he laughed nervously.
"How is he?" asked a female voice from above. I glanced up to see three more people, all peering in from the hole in my roof!
"Oh, wonderful." A female with long fiery red hair spat. "Now the Narcoleptic Argentinian is unconscious, and therefore the scenario will be not finished in time to present to the financier tomorrow."
"I will find someone to read the part!" Ron threw back at the woman.
"Now where in Heaven's name will you find someone to read the role of a young, sensitive, Swiss poet goat herd?"
Before I knew it I was upstairs filling in for the unconscious Argentinian.
Up in the room, half-painted props were splayed everywhere, and random junk piled in around all corners. The room smelled distinctly of fish and stale bread. An Irishman was making things spark brightly and loudly in the back of the room, and he made me really want to have a bucket of water handy were he to light us all on fire.
A bucket of sanity would be nice right now as well.
Ron was singing in front of some small painted cardboard mountains
"The hills animate
With the euphonious symphonies of descant!"
"Oh stop!" screamed the red-haired girl, who's name I found out was Ginny. "I can't hear my words over your insufferable droning!" Ginny signaled in the direction of the sparking man. "Please just do a little bit of decorative piano."
There seemed to be artistic differences over Ginny's lyrics as to sounding realistic.
"I don't think a nun would say that about a hill." Neville (another actor) offered. "What if it said: The hills are vital intoning the descant?"
"No no no," said Ron "The hills quake and shake-"
"No no, the hill-"
"The hills intonate with symphonic melodies!"
"No the hills-"
"The hills-"
"The hills are-"
Sounds were mounting on top of eachother. Each person was fighting for control of the conversation, one after another, louder, louder, louder-
"The hills are alive!
With the sound of music..."
A long silence followed my outburst.
Suddenly the narcoleptic Argentinian burst forth from his bed,
"Whoah! The hills are alive with the sound of music. I love it!" he screamed.
"It fits perfectly!" said Seamus.
"With songs they have sung,
For a thousand years!"
I continued to sing.
The crowd gasped loudly. More silence. Ron threw up his arms "Incandiferous!" he gestured at me "Ginny, you two should write the show together!."
Ginny put her hands on her hips "I beg your pardon?"
But Ron's suggestion that Ginny and I write the show together was not what Ginny wanted to hear.
"Goodbye!" she spat, and slammed the door as she left.
Ron held up a small glass of bubbling red liquid "To your first job in Paris!" he downed the liqueur.
"Ron, Malfoy will never agree to him writing a show for Moulin Rouge." Seamus pointed out. He turned to me "No offense, but have you ever written anything like this before?"
"No!" I said truthfully.
"The boy has talent, then!" said Dean, the Narcoleptic Argentinian. "I like him!" he hesitated. "Nothing funny... I just like talent."
Ron turned to the two other men "The hills are alive with the sound of music! See, you two, with Harry we can write the Bohemian revolutionary show we've always dreamt of!" Ron said excitedly.
"But how will we convince Malfoy?"
But Ron had a plan:
Draco.
They would dress me in Dean's best suit and pass me off as a famous English writer. Once Draco heard my modern poetry he would be astounded and insist to Malfoy that I write "Spectacular!, Spectacular!", the only problem was I kept hearing my father's voice in my head! "You'll end up wasting you life with the Moulin Rogue cancan dancer!"
Everyone was talking all at once, and I was crowded against the wall and I could hear Ron's voice in my ear, and I was going to marry a cancan dancer and-
"I can't write the show for the Moulin Rouge!"
Ron gave me a devastated look "Why not?"
"I don't even know if I really am a true Bohemian revolutionary!"
There was a collective gasp from the crowd.
"Do you believe in beauty?" Ron cried.
"Yes."
"Freedom?"
"Yes, of course!"
"Truth?"
"Yes!"
"Love?"
I paused. "Love? Above all things I believe in love. Love is like oxygen, Love is a many splendored thing, Love lifts us up to where we belong, all we need is love!" It was something I believed passionately.
Ron winked "You can't fool us, You are the voice of the Children of the Revolution! You're going to be the writer of the world's first Bohemian revolutionary show!"
It was the perfect plan. I was to audition for Draco, but before that, I would taste my first celebratory glass of... Firewhiskey.
I downed the small shot easily. The bubbling drink slid smoothly down my throat. But, slowly, the room spun. The small fairy on the bottle of the glass winked at me "I am the Queen of Fairies." it told me. I reached out to touch her pretty red wings but she flitted away towards the window.
"The hills are alive
with the sound of music"
She sang to me. She danced in a formation only known to her native country and spelled out the words of the revolution "Freedom, Beauty, Truth, and Love" and sang to me again.
"The hills are alive
with the sound of music."
And with that she flew into the moon.
That night we were off to the Moulin Rouge. And I would preform my poetry for Draco Malfoy.