Hello loves, I just wanted you all to know that I need a slight change of pace, so I'm starting this one. I hope you all like it. I'm not abandoning my other story, it's just I need something new to think about. If any of you feel I'm spending too much time on this piece, please don't hestiate to send me a pm, telling me to get back to work on my other stuff. Oh, and this is only loosley based on Moulin Rouge. Please tell me what you think.

Thank you

thedarkersister3

Through The Diamond's eyes

Chapter 1:

Emerald green eyes stared blankly at the large building standing in front of them, watching as the young, the old, the rich, and those who were just getting by, stood in line outside of this ordinary looking building, all standing in their best, and for some it wasn't much better than their worst, all waiting for the doors to open to them, all wanting to see what was held on the other side of this edifice.

He wasn't one of them, not especially caring to what lay behind those doors, as to who hid within. He could feel it in his bones that Voldemort, was in that place, probably leading the whole operation, luring everyone from all over the globe into that whore house.

Of course, the sign on the front of the building didn't state such a fact, but he knew. He could practically smell the sex, drugs, and magic radiating off the building, could feel the grime of sweat and semen, could taste the darkness and pleasure that colored the air surrounding it. The magic within was vile and felt sticky, making the air heavy, hard to breathe.

"Harry?" came a questioning voice, sounding too close to his ear, as though trying to be seductive. His brow twitched slightly, signaling his annoyance, his dark eyes turning toward the source of the voice, plastering on a fake smile, much like the invisible facade that covered the buildings intentions.

"What is it Ginny?" asked the teen, running his hand through his dark, curly hair, mussing the mass more than was necessary. "We have work to do." he stated.

Ginny Weasley, pouted, in what some probably thought was adorable, but to him it was merely disgusting, cheesy, and overly practiced, never like a real pout. She looked at him, fluttering her eyelashes 'seductively', threading her arm through that of the taller boy, using her other hand to flip her hair over her slightly freckled shoulder. "I thought Dumbledore was going to allow us some fun tonight," said the redhead, pulling the green eyed teen's arm in between her breast.

Harry grimaced, withdrawing his arm from her grasp, straightening his coat sleeve, removing invisible lint from the dark, expensive fabric."Well, you know that old man, he just loves to make others do his dirty work." stated Harry, remembering the soft bed that awaited at the castle.

Ginny frowned, withdrawing from the boy's company, folding her arms infront of her ample chest, pushing her breast up, trying to make them more appealing to the darker boy."Dont' be like that." she said simply, for she wasn't able to think far past her own desires into a complex sentence. "Dumbledore is a good guy...he takes care of us."

Harry laughed slightly. Not a happy laugh, but a cold, hard, dark laugh, the laugh that is expected to come from the body of a wizard seeped in dark magics."He uses people to meet his own ends, and helps them when he feels its necessary." said Harry, controlling a shiver as it slowly rolled down his spine.

Before the redhead could answer, the doors opened wide, like the legs of some practiced whore, welcoming the thought of money and sex. The crowd nearly rushed in, partially to get out of the cold, but also to see the extravagance that was inside. Harry grasped the girl's arm, pulling her inside, disappearing into the demon's den.

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Once seated, Harry sighed, leaning back in the plush dark velvet chair, relaxing in the dark, where Ginny couldn't see him. Glancing at the waiter as he came to stand next to their table, he slipped the young man a few galleons, whispering to the boy to bring the girl something stronger than her Shirley Temple. A smirk creased the teen's features, mischief playing in his caramel eyes, nodding to the green eyed boy, before dashing off to fill his order.

Harry watched the door, not even bothering to see who was gracing the stage with their prescence, beauty, and wares, not interested, until he saw Voldemort.

He sat silently, his fists clenched, watching the older man as he spoke to his allies, his dark eyes focused on the other men as they spoke to him. Harry could barely contain himself, as he saw the man laugh slightly at some joke they said. But confusion hit him, when the dark lord silenced them, his attention focused on the stage, his eyes glazing over with desire, watching as darkness covered the hall.

All of a sudden, the lights turned back on, only now on the stage stood a young boy, his body nearly completely covered in white sparkles, his white blonde hair peeking out from under a black top hat, his legs covered in skintight black leather, his feet encased in high heeled black boots, his chest bare but for the glitter, his pale pointed face emphasised by glitter on his cheekbones, his beautiful bow shaped lips shimmering, his silvery grey catlike eyes outlined in the blackest of black kohl.

Harry felt his body heat up in response to the sight, his manhood stiffening slightly. His eyes hungrily devoured the boy on the stage, his intentions to watch the dark lord all but forgotten. The creature on the stage stood, his eyes staring out from under his hat, his delicate hands settled on his slim hips, his legs distanced apart from each other. A microphone, stood at his level, seemingly waiting for the boy, wanting his touch, as the audience did. Slowly, the boy stepped forward, gently grasping the microphone, looking at it briefly before looking at the crowd that stared back at him. Smirking slightly, the boy let out a note that pierced the night, the quiet, the darkness, waking all those that stared from their stupor.

The boy sang into the microphone, his voice light and sultry, singing of love that was never present and of the desires of men, his beautifully clear eyes never leaving the audience, making them feel as though he were singing to them, and not to earn money. Finally the boy's song ended, and as he bowed, something landed on the stage next to his feet. Gently grasping the object in his hand, gracefully standing to attention, the boy turned from them, clutching the object to his chest, a smirk playing on his rose pink lips.

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