Author's Note: I normally write Death Note fics, but I recently discovered I can also write Harry Potter ones. This is a songfic, based on the Moulin Rouge version of "The Show Must Go On", originally sung by Elton John. It contains SPOILERS, so don't bitch. SPOILERS, I say. It's sort of towards the end of HP, both sides contemplating the end and how hard they've fought for it.
Warnings: HERE YE, HERE YE. HERE BE SPOILERS. BIG EFF OFF SPOILERS. Also death mentions, I don't think any swears etc.
Disclaimer: Don't own Elton John, Moulin Rouge, Harry Potter or this song. I do own this fic, so mitts off.
Dedication: Rasp, for being my muse a lot, and JK Rowling. And Moulin Rouge, that film kicked ass.
Another hero,
Harry Potter, had, undoubtedly, faced more in his childhood than many millions could ever expect in theirs. That's why it was so bitter, that once more, he and his friends, both those who had already faced down death, and those who were as yet untainted, those who were determined to fight for their lives, and those willing to sacrifice them, were to yet again struggle for their right to exist.
Another mindless crime,
Severus Snape's blood would be cold by the time the war was over.
Behind the curtain, in the pantomime,
Throughout it all, Dumbledore's presence, equally unwanted and desired by those who really knew him, and by those who felt they had, streamed through, engaging mixed feelings of courage and determination, and bitter, bitter depression that it had come to this, a battle for survival, desperately fought by both sides.
On and on, does anybody know what we are living for?
Some of the Death Eaters had considered trying to turn against their master. But one look at the Dark Lord was enough to assure them that cowardice and disloyalty would, as ever, be severely reprimanded. But oh, what is the point of it all when your lifetime is consumed with cutting short that of others?
Whatever happens, we leave it all to chance;
No one could predict the outcome. Many would perish – of that, both sides were absolutely certain, but none but the stupid could claim truthfully to have no worries about who would win and who would die.
Another heartache,
Harry looked at the faces of those he felt were most likely to be cold and motionless before the first light of dawn, and felt his heart begin to falter.
Another failed romance.
So many who would never live to hold down a job, fall in love, grow old. Harry watched as his friends prepared themselves to be ready to die instead of find themselves, and each other, instead of becoming lovers, husbands and wives, parents. He watched as Neville put his arm around Luna Lovegood's shoulder and rested his head on hers, felt tears prick as the young couples of Hogwarts held hands or kissed for what they all felt could be the final time, turned his head away as whispered vows of love reached his ears.
Narcissa Malfoy buried her face in Lucius's shirt as she tried to understand that this could be the last time he was able to put his arm around her, or take her hand in his when he felt her terror. Bellatrix Lestrange sat by her master, steadying her racing, aching heart, racing out of exhilaration, aching out of unrequited love.
On and on, does anybody know what we are living for?
Bellatrix sat still, the urge to fight pounding through her head, her veins. Her fingers tightened on her wand unconsciously. "The fight is the reason to fight!"Old mottos dancing through her mind, just like the first time she had proven her loyalty. Lord Voldemort noticed her unrest and allowed it to reaffirm his determination to end the much-prolonged war.
The show must go on.
Lucius's arms tightened around his wife as he whispered into her ear, against her cheek. "I've got to do this. We'vegot to do this."
The show must go on.
The chance of a peaceful coalition had never existed, but now the choice to leave the fight to those who wished for it had also passed, trapping both children and adults alike inside the fast-approaching end.
Outside the dawn is breaking
On the stage,
That holds our final destiny.
What happened tonight could change the face of the world forever. If Lord Voldemort won, the persecution of non-purebloods would escalate until his obsession was satisfied. Knowing this could never happen, those who valued the freedom of Muggles and wizards alike hardened their eyes and braced their backs to support the weight of the whole world.
The show must go on.
Harry leaned against a wall and let his mind flick through the memories of those already fallen for the cause. Cedric Diggory, unknowing and innocent, Dobby, Mad Eye, Dumbledore. Sirius.
The show must go on,
And then, those who had given up their lives the first time. Alice and Frank Longbottom, Neville's brave, courageous parents, brilliant minds now lost. Regulus Black, Voldemort's once-ally, turned betrayer. His parents. Now, through all he knew of them, the bad and the good, the bullying and the irritation, Harry admired them all the more for being more human than he had first believed.
Inside my heart is breaking.
Narcissa hit against Lucius's chest feebly with a clenched fist, and shook her head. "I can't stand it. I can't stand losing you."
My make-up may be flaking,
Bellatrix rubbed under her eyes hard, makeup smearing on her hands, determined to have no distractions tonight, this night. The night that could decide if she lived or died, for waving the white flag had never been an option for her, not since her first initiation as a teenage girl, still at Hogwarts herself.
But my smile still stays on.
To die would mean… Dying. But for a cause, a means to an end. She looked up at the Dark Lord, accepting the knowledge that, if he were to ask her to die for him, she would run towards it willingly. Her smile brought back the bewitching beauty of her youth, before her long incarceration, whilst chilling some of the less assured supporters to the bone.
The show must go on.
Around the castle, spells were being practised, repeated over and over until bright sparks of magic flew with near-perfect aim.
The show must go on.
Anger was being slowly overtaken by misery, with fighters remembering those who had already fought and lost, much like Harry already had, and envisioning much the same fate for themselves if they were to lose, die within their own school.
I'll top the bill, I'll earn the kill.
Voldemort collected himself and focused on his warriors, giving them specific tasks, names to wipe off his list, areas of the castle to subdue. Their expressions ranged from utter terror to effervescent pleasure.
I have to find the will to carry
On with the…
Harry breathed in deep, and curled his fingers tight around his wand, feeling the blood rush through his veins with acute definition, hearing the pound of his heart in his head, feeling it in his wrists and legs. Allowing others to fight his fight was not something he wished to be remembered for.
Breathe.
On with the…
Voldemort raised his wand, knowing that, when his hand dropped, either everything he ever wanted would finally be his, or he would lose anything he already had, including his own life.
Breathe.
On with the show.
Both sides let their minds open to the threat awaiting them, and welcomed the onslaught so they could prove their allegiance to their causes, their leaders… And their hearts.
The Show must go on.
And on it will go.
Lemon
x