Fox: This fanfic was inspired by the play RENT and my love of show music. It is also an apology to myself for my complete lack of a good singing voice.

Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger stared at the Hogwarts bulletin board in disbelief. Ron let out a tiny whimper as he finished reading the notice.

Attention

The Muggle Studies Department has made a recent addition to the student curriculum. Affective this afternoon, students will have the choice of participating in a muggle theatre class.

Note: To all students with more than two free periods on their schedules, this class is mandatory.

Ron let out another whimper and stared accusingly down at his schedule, which was miserably spotted with free periods.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione scolded from his right, "Muggle theatre is quite interesting. You might actually enjoy the class. As a matter of fact, I think I'm going to borrow the time turner from Dumbledore again so I can take it."

"But I don't like theatre Herm, it's boring."

"That's not true," said a soft voice to his right. Harry Potter looked slightly resentful as he stared at his best friend. "I happen to like theatre, musicals in particular. I hope they're doing one in this class."

"Harry, you're taking this class." Harry nodded and indicated to his own schedule, which sported three free periods.

"Finnnneeeee." Harry and Hermione shared an amused look over their friend's head.

"Speaking of fine," Hermione said, a thoughtful frown marring her face. "How've you been feeling, Harry?" The Gryffindor prefect scanned her best friend's visage and her frown deepened. She had been worried about Harry ever since he had arrived at the Burrow earlier that summer. At first she thought that it was just a flu, as Harry had claimed it to be, but now almost a month had passed and they were back at Hogwarts. Harry looked worst than before and she was convinced that this was no ordinary flu.

"I'm fine, Hermione." Harry said but Hermione had not missed the way Harry had been leaning heavily against the stone wall throughout the entire conversation, as if to hold himself up and to keep from collapsing. She would have to keep an eye on him.

"Well," the Gryffindor seeker said in his weakened voice, "I'd better finish some homework before the theatre class. Catch you guys later." And with that Harry began to make his way to Gryffindor Tower.

Harry's breath was erratic as he lay on his bed. Everything hurt so much, his bones and joints ached, and even turning his head hurt. He hadn't dared to drop his glamour charm and he didn't need too. He didn't even want to see his pale, sickly visage staring back at him in the mirror. Suddenly Ron burst through the door.

"Harry, are you alright?" Ron stared at the pale, sweating, and shaking form on the bed. Harry looked about a moment from death.

"Fine," Harry gasped out. "Just…A bad dream…"

Oh. Well, we're going to be late for that theatre class thingy."

Various students from all four houses filed into the room which had been magically changed into a full sized auditorium. Harry tried to conceal his glee. After all, his cousin had beaten it into him that theatre was for fags and although he had no problem with being gay, other people weren't always that open-minded.

The new theatre teacher stood in front of the first row of seats, smiling congenially at the students.

"Welcome, everyone. Well, I'm not one to waste any time. My name is Mr. Seagal and I already know all your names thanks to a quick memory spell. So, let's see what kind of talent we have here. These will be your auditions for the play we will perform in the middle of the year. Don't worry, everyone will get a part." Many people had a horrified look of their face and nervous whispers filled the room. "First up, Draco Malfoy."

Malfoy sauntered onto stage but Harry noticed that the cocky boy's stepped were a little hesitant. He stood onstage and one could literally see his bravado deflate. A few minutes passed by before Mr. Seagal intervened.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes. I don't know what to sing…" Only Malfoy could make an embarrassing moment sound snarky and condescending.

"Very well. What's you're voice pitch." At this, Malfoy actually colored a little.

"Soprano." Harry giggled a little at this.

"Mr. Potter," the director called out, "do not laugh at other people in my class. And since you find the theatre so amusing, why don't you sing with Mr. Malfoy."

"What do you mean with?" Draco asked, already dreading what he thought was to come. And right on time, those evil words came out of the director's mouth.

"Because, Mr. Malfoy, there are no male songs for soprano's in this play." Draco watched in disgust as Potter ambled onto the stage to stand next to him.

"Alright. Here's the music. The song's called 'Will you Light My Candle?'" The director handed the music to Draco but Harry refused the parchment, stating simply, "I know this song." Draco glared at his nemesis with astonishment coated with venom. Mr. Seagal flicked his wand at the piano and it began playing all the instruments needed for the song.

A/N: Harry as Roger

Draco as Mimi

Harry: What'd You Forget?

Draco: Got A Light?

Harry: I Know You? -- You're --
You're Shivering

Draco: It's Nothing
They Turned Off My Heat
And I'm Just A Little
Weak On My Feet
Would You Light My Candle?
What Are You Staring At?

Harry: Nothing
Your Hair In The Moonlight
You Look Familiar
Can You Make It?

Draco: Just Haven't Eaten Much Today
At Least The Room Stopped Spinning
Anyway, What?

Harry: Nothing
Your Smile Reminded Me Of-

Draco: I Always Remind People Of - Who Is She?

Harry: She Died. Her Name Was April

Draco: It's Out Again
Sorry About Your Friend
Would You Light My Candle?

Harry: Well-

Draco: Yeah. Ow

Harry: Oh, The Wax - It's

Draco: Dripping! I Like It - Between My --

Harry: Finger. I Figured...
Oh, Well. Goodnight.

Draco smirked as he realized that he was generally flustering Potter. He decided then that he would try to get into character and see how much he could get the Gryffindor to react.

(Mimi exits; then knocks again)

Harry: It Blew Out Again?

Draco: No-I Think That I Dropped My Stash

WTF??!! My character's a druggie? Eh, whatever.

Harry: I Know I've Seen You Out And About
When I Used To Go Out
Your Candle's Out

Draco: I'm Illin' -
I Had It When I Walked In The Door
It Was Pure -
Is It On The Floor?

Harry: The Floor?

Harry knew what was coming next in the song and all he could do was hope that Draco would not take advantage of what his character could do in the next verse. However, something told him that the blonde would do just that and he braced himself.

Draco: They Say I Have The Best Ass Below
14TH Street
Is It True?

Harry: What?

Draco: You're Staring Again

Harry gulped. God what a great arse. Mmmmm…Oh shit what were his lines.

Harry: On No
I Mean You Do--Have A Nice--
I Mean--You Look Familiar

Draco: Like Your Dead Girlfriend?

Harry: Only When You Smile
But I'm Sure I've Seen You Somewhere
Else--

Draco: Do You Go To The Cat Scratch Club
That's Where I Work - I Dance - Help Me
Look

Harry: Yes!
They Used To Tie You Up-

Draco: It's A Living

Harry: I Didn't Recognize You
Without The Handcuffs

Harry snickered at the authentic glare that the Slytherin gave him and gave the blonde a saucy wink. But the blonde took it in stride, practically draping himself across Harry's shoulders.

Draco: We Could Light The Candle
Oh Won't You Light The Candle

Harry: Why Don't You Forget That Stuff
You Look Like You're Sixteen

Draco: I'm Nineteen - But I'm Old For My Age
I'm Just Born To Be Bad

Harry: I Once Was Born To Be Bad
I Used To Shiver Like That

Draco: I Have No Heat - I Told You

Harry: I Used To Sweat

Draco: I Got A Cold

Harry: Uh Huh
I Used To Be A Junkie

I haven't doubted it for a second, Potter.

Draco: But Now And Then I Like To --

Harry: Uh Huh

Draco: Feel Good

Harry: Here It -- Um --

Draco: What's That?

Harry: Candy Bar Wrapper

Draco: We Could Light The Candle
What'd You Do With My Candle?

Harry: That Was My Last Match

Draco: Our Eyes Will Adjust. Thank God For
The Moon

Harry: Maybe It's Not The Moon At All
I Hear Spike Lee's Shooting Down
The Street

Draco: Bah Humbug ... Bah Humbug

Harry: Cold Hands

Draco: Yours Too
Big. Like My Father's
You Wanna Dance?

Harry: With You?

Draco: No - With My Father

Harry: I'm Roger

Draco: They Call Me
They Call Me Mimi

As Draco sauntered off the stage, Harry watched his swaying hips and had to bite his lips to keep from moaning. This was going to be a long year.

Mr. Seagal nodded his head in approval.

"Alright, next in Hermione Granger."