Disclaimer: The year is 1899. A young aspiring writer journey's to the allure of Paris, a true Bohemian paradise, where he hopes to become a famous writer. Once there he seizes the oppurutnity of a life-time at the possibility of writing a play for Paris' most exotic nightclub, The Moulin Rouge. Once he enters the owners inner circle he meets the exotic and alluring Ginerva, a fiery courtesean and star of the Moulin Rouge. In order to win the owner, Arthur Weasley, over he must take advantage of Ginerva's passionate advances. However another man is promised to her bed. The Duke and his influental heir are in town and looking for suitable investments when Arthur suggests they invest in Ginerva, the star of the show and aspiring actress. To do so, Draco [the heir] must woo her. But what happens when he finds her in the arms of another man? What happens if it is not Ginerva he feels jealous about? What happens when people fall in love with someone they're not supposed to? A twisted web of love, lies and deception. Welcome, to the Moulin Rouge.

NOTE: To construct this story I am using the help of the transcript from the movie 'Moulin Rouge'. Sadly, I do not own it nor do I own the characters of Harry Potter. The majority of the dialogue to begin with is recognisable from the movie [mainly the first one or two chapter] however in later chapters my own dialogue will be in there as well.

Moulin Rouge

Infatuation

Arthur Weasley was in paradise. The Duke had loaned him enough money to convert the Moulin Rouge into a theater. The women were stationed in creating the most vividly bright costumes that he had ever seen. There was gold and fuchsia and cyan fabric dripping all over the place along with numerous gems and head-dresses. He had called a meeting for nine o'clock that morning and he was making his way towards the stage that was being formed. The red velvet curtains were at least four centimeters thick and had heavy gold fringes trimming the end. There was also heavy gold framing hanging in the center overhead the stage. It all gleamed with superiority.

It all gleamed like Lucius Malfoy.

He clapped his hands together and walked onto the sleek, brightly varnished floorboards of the stage and beamed even wider as he saw the new cast and crew seated on bland, straight-backed chairs that looked as though they were barely able to support some of the women's heavily skirted dresses. "Good morning everyone!" he felt his heart rate accelerate as he listened to his own voice echo from all four corners of the room. "We will have created the world's first completely modern ...entirely electric, totally bohemian, all-singing, all-dancing stage spectacular!"

Ginevra looked over at Harry, noticing how relaxed the young man seemed compared to when she had first encountered him. He was seated in between the Duke and his son. Both Malfoy's were sitting straight-backed with their bright blond hair styled carefully. They made little Harry stand out dramatically with his lengthening, dark hair, wide interested eyes and open expression -not compared to the pale and disdainful expression of both Malfoy's. As Arthur mumbled on about a few more things that were barely important, Harry's bright green eyes wondered slightly. He caught the flirtatious redhead smiling at him and he felt the corners of his mouth pull up into a small, shy smile.

She was fascinated by the unhealthy flush creeping up his neck. Harry sniffed and looked away as a pale hand reached over and curled around his forearm. Both green and brown eyes came to look at Draco Malfoy who was staring straight ahead at Arthur Weasley's balding head bobbing around under the bright lights that had been installed. Ginevra frowned at the hand on Harry's forearm but the brunette was too busy listening to whatever the blond heir murmured into the shell of his ear. She watched as Harry's face broke into a barely suppressed grin, his eyes darting for confirmation of whatever Draco had told him about her father prancing around on the stage.

Half-way through Arthur's ever lengthening speech, a huge boulder-shaped weight crashed through the wall behind him, as he stood near the small area which was to be used to extend the over-head box seats. People were jumping from their chairs and stepping as far away as possible. A few even ran around towards the stage to help Arthur dust himself down from the plaster dust that had descended into the air.

Ginevra who had raised and scurried away from her her own chair, despite the dust cloud reaching nowhere near her chair. Her erratic breathing soon felt dull in her chest as she glanced over, a few loose red curls drifting in front of her brown eyes, to see that both the Malfoy heir and Harry were both on their feet and standing before one of the thick pillars running along the very edge of the building, alongside a few other startled can-can dancers. Draco and Harry's hands were clutching one another's forearms, their bodies barely centimeters apart as they looked on with wide, frightened eyes at the white dust that began to settle on the marble tiled floors and a quarter of the new stage.

She frowned at them for a moment longer and was a little perturbed by how comfortable Harry seemed to be, being clutched onto by the Malfoy heir.

She turned her eyes back to the stage, the plaster dust sticking to a few of her eyelashes.

Arthur appeared through the cloud with a gaping hole in his mouth shaped into a ridiculous grin, "The show must go on!"

Yes, the show would go on. But Draco cancelled his dinner plans with Ginevra that same night and the following night.

Draco was enjoying letting himself go as he settled into Harry's bohemian abode for the third night in a row. He enjoyed walking in through the rough wooden door, and unbuttoning his over-coat, waistcoat and unchaining his pocket-watch from his pockets. Colin came from upstairs with fresh food and wine, and helped out with preparing food whilst Harry raved about the latest scene he had written, or dramatized the emotions for the characters. Draco laughed full-heartily as he clapped his hands in mirth and reclined in the wicker chair, propping his unbooted foot upon the writing desk. Colin was giggling about how wonderful the current scene was being acted out, as Harry danced around along the slim balcony outside, which was really just the floor lengthened out too long when the building was being made.

The thin white net curtains flapped around as Harry reemerged with some bright scrapped left-over fabric that he had collected when he had gone back-stage to confirm some of the specifics for the costumes. The colours clashed but Draco was having too much fun listening to Harry's antics that he could hardly care about the offensive multicoloured raincoat.

"You have betrayed me!" Harry's childishly angry face appeared with as he flared his arms out dramatically, his cute nose wrinkled up. !Mad with jealousy, the evil maharajah forces the courtesan to make the penniless sitar player believe she doesn't love him!"

"Oh, yes! Of course!" Colin squealed as he speared some meat onto a thin wooden skewer.

Harry flared his hands out, "'Thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love,' says the penniless sitar player, throwing money at her feet and leaving the kingdom forever!" he turned and leaped out of the open window.

Draco was out of his chair and at the window in the blink of an eye, "No! No you imbecile!"

"No!" Colin squeaked out at the same time, hands flying up to cover up his mouth in fear.

A bright cackling sound was heard from the other window. Both men turned to see Harry peering in through the other window and his cheeks were flushed with excitement. Draco relaxed his muscles, relief washing through him. He briskly strode over to the other window, grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him inside, both grinning like delusional idiots.

"Oh, brilliant! Brilliant!" Colin chimed out as he went back to dicing up the fruit.

Draco turned back to Harry and grabbed him around the waist and waltzed him haphazardly over the bare floorboards, "Oh, my dear deluded little writer, I am enamored by your portrayal of a life without love," he pulled Harry flush against him, the heat of the room seeping into his blood stream and making his eyes droop with a lustful air, "it truly is terrible"

Harry swallowed thickly as the burning mercury of Draco's eyes hypnotized him and rendered him unable to look away. His head was suddenly light and filled with a rose-tinted glow, "yes," he breathed in a hushed voice as Draco skin suddenly felt all too real through their sleeves, "b-b-but the sitar player..."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Colin waved a handful of skewers and tried to beckon both men over to the food he had prepared.

"... With the magical sitar-" Harry was suddenly cut off by not only Colin, but Draco's hands squeezing tightly onto his own.

"That's my part, Harry! Th-That's my part! That's my part, Harry! Don't you dare recite my lines!"

Draco chuckled, the low rumbling sound sent a strange shiver running through Harry's body. It settled sweetly in his stomach. He unwound his hands from Draco's own so as to grab a skewer from where it rested just inside his little black stove and ripped of a chunk of meat like a ravenous animal. He directed his skewer at Colin all the while speaking to Draco and not caring if the blond saw the food in his mouth. "His magic sitar, who can only speak the truth, says- he says-"

'The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return'

Everyone's schedules were growing more and more hectic as the date of the opening night drew ever nearer. Harry was making everyone reserve three-fold so as to be prepared for any scenario that should occur. He was thankful that he had The Duke and Arthur to back him up on the idea, all of them knowing that they could not afford for anything to wrong.

Everything had to be PERFECT.

He was, though, perturbed by how often Ginevra favored to rehearse her lines with him. She was either not-too-bright or was dropped on her head as a child, because made bubbly exclamations that she forgot her next line, and when asked to start from the top, she would gush and ask to be directed to whatever page they were rehearsing from. He had even gone so far as to beg for Draco to accompany along to any rehearsals between the both of them.

Ginevra did not like this idea. She did not make it apparent however, as she found the challenge rather interesting. She was unsure as to which of the two men she was more enamored with, and praised the challenge sent to her by the Universe to throw them all into the same room as one another. She loved the idea of being with Draco; not only was he rich and powerful and he was so patient when being in the same room and an immature young man such as Harry.

However, Harry had a sort of -shy charm about him.

On one of these three-way rehearsals Duke Lucius Malfoy appeared half-way through with a cold look in his eyes and a tight-lipped smirk upon his mouth. "Good morning, Miss Weasley, Draco," he turned his slicked head over to face Harry who was seated a little ways away from the other two, "-and young Mister Potter. Good. Good." He strode into the room, cane grasped within his right hand as he stood in front of the door.

Draco cocked a sleek blond eyebrow and stood up, straight-backed and composed. "What brings you here today, father?"

"I was wondering if you would like to accompany myself and young Ginevra on a little picnic on the beach? You can tell me all about what you have been doing in concern to the productions preparations"

"Oh, well, I don't see why that should be a problem. We were practically finished rehearsing this scene, weren't we, Harry?" Draco directed everyone's attention to the young brunette perched in the upright chair looking intensely uncomfortable of the situation.

"Oh um -yes of course," the brunette made no contact with anyone as he re-shuffled the pages he had written the night before with Draco's help. He did not know how to write dark, threatening emotions - he had been too happy at the time to write such things. Draco had managed to help, despite him getting a little intoxicated by Colin's home-made wine. It was a wonder the blond man had shown up to the rehearsal prompt -a few minutes prior to Harry -and without any lingering effects. Harry stood from his chair, the pile of papers clutched to his chest. "Well I trust that you will have a pleasant afternoon -the finale is still uneasy, sir" he stated a little rushed as he came face-to-face with The Duke's cool gaze.

"Well see to it that it is finished soon, Mister Potter"

"I can give you the first draft for a preview, sir, to see what you think about it?"

"Well Father, perhaps Harry could accompany us as well. Above all of us he deserves a day off and this way he can pitch you his idea for the finale, this way it'll be a whole lot easier for him to write when everything is decided beforehand"

"Oh no, Draco we do not need to do that! I am sure that Harry is far too busy to take a day off" Ginevra stated with a heavy pout to her lips. Draco grimaced and spared a glance to Harry who was hovering beside the door. His green eyes were bright with an array of conflicting emotions.

"Don't be ridiculous" Lucius snarled, sending a chill down everyone's spine but his own, "if the young writer can carry a blanket and basket, I don't see why he cannot accompany us for the afternoon. It is a marvelous idea, son," Lucius concluded as he walked back over to the open door and placed a stiff hand on Harry's tense shoulder.

Harry looked up into the cool grey eyes and was momentarily surprised, "oh um ... thank you, Sir but you honestly do not need to have your afternoon taken up by my prattling. I will have a copy of the finale written by tomorrow morning. Enjoy your afternoon" he inclined his head and then manouvred around Lucius to reach the door. In one swift motion he was gone.

Every occupant in the room seemed to be holding their breath, awaiting Lucius' reaction.

There was none.

He merely turned to face Ginevra and Draco with the same expression that he entered with. "Well?" he sniped, "what are you two staring at? If we wish to make it to the coast we shall have to leave right this moment!" he turned on his heel and flounced from the room, his black cloak billowing behind him.

~0~

Harry made it through the next few days by ensuring that he helped Colin with his lines. The small blond man struggled greatly with the forthcoming pressure of all those eyes upon him. Harry had tried to calm him down by saying that if Colin could recite, by heart, to him alone, then that was all that mattered. He promised the smaller man that he would be ready for the opening night, but said blond was unconvinced. "Okay let's take it from the top, Colin. So the magical sitar player falls from the roof-"

"Yes, I know. Don't tell me. The greatest thing you'll ever -wait I know this I know this!"

"I won't rush you Colin -in your own time, alright?" Harry coaxed lightly, pouring them both some ale.

"Um ... yes... Master... make.. contract" the young blond recited under his breath as he struggled to remember the black-and-white print.

Harry watched from his chair, his chin resting lightly on his fist as he reclined against his desk, feet propped up on the window sill as he watched Colin pace before his small, bulbous shaped stove. He felt a bitter seed shimmer and quake within his heart, daring to grow roots and bury them within his heart. He did not know where it had sprung from, but it had nestled within him ever since a few days prior, when he had excused himself from the Moulin Rouge and refused to show his face there. He had no desire to return there. Not yet. He was not ready to bask under the icy glow of Lucius Malfoy's gaze.

He shivered at the thought of those two cold orbs.

"H-Harry?"

He started slightly out of his reverie, his eyelids suddenly heavy, as he shook his head and blinked at the bright daylight pouring in through the window.

"Yes Colin?" he rasped.

"Can we finish the rehearsals? I need to head on over to see Flitwick about the music"

Harry nodded weakly, "yeah that's fine. I don't think I can focus too well anyways at the moment" He watched as Colin smiled gratefully at him, placed the script carefully on the bedside table, before scurrying quickly out of the door. Harry sighed and ran his hands down his face as he stared down at his type-writer, the single sentence he had managed to type didn't make sense. He snatched the paper from the type-writer, balled it up and tossed it carelessly over his shoulder.

He remained in that chair for the majority of that afternoon, only getting up to use the bathroom and swiping up some bread, cheese and cold meat for a thick sandwich, before returning to the chair and easing himself into the familiar support. It was comforting but not as enticing as his bed was. The sheets were most likely cooled by the early morning air of that day. He sighed and dragged himself up from the chair and slipped over to the bed. In slow movements he unbuttoned his shirt and allowed it to slip off of his soft skin and pool around his bare feet. He pulled the elasticated braces away from his shoulders, and watched as his trousers dropped to around his ankles also.

The cooling air of the on-coming evening swept over his bare skin, stroking against him like watered-silk. He sighed beautifully and pulled away the cold cotton sheets and slid in between them, laying on his stomach so that he could cuddle the pillow beneath his head and relax his troubled mind and muscles. He let out a small moan as he closed his eyes and snuggled his cheek against the cold pillow, his mind drifting ...

"What do you mean he is not here?!" Draco demanded of Dumbledore rather heatedly as they rehearsed a scene that evening right before dinner was due to be served. "He needs to be here otherwise no one will know if what they are doing is right!" he seethed.

"Well ... I -you see Colin came in this afternoon to help me with the music, but Harry was not with him. He did mention how the young boy looked rather somber"

"Draco, dear" Ginevra purred silkily as she shuffled over to stand beside him, her corset riding rather low on her waxy bosoms, "I can see that this scene is not quite finished yet. The, um, "Will the Lover Be Meeting at the Sitar Player's Humble Abode" scene. And I wondered if I could work on it with you later tonight? That way we can create our own little finale for that scene and present it to Harry"

Draco turned to her, clenching his fists and his anger fuming until he swore he could see steam billowing from his pursed lips. "Do I look like I have anything to do with this play? All I want to do is ensure that my investment does not go to waist on you damned can-can dancers! You want to be an actress? Bloody do something about it for yourself!" without another word to either of them, he turned from the hall and strode out into the chilled evening air.

"Did you hear how he just spoke to me?" Ginevra asked Flitwick as soon as the blond man was out of earshot. Flitwick nodded, a little weary as to how this young woman would take to being spoken in such a manner. "I quite liked it," she gushed lightly, fanning her exposed chest with the script she had yet to read.

Meanwhile, Draco was stalking along the cobblestone roads, winding in and out of shadowed buildings until he reached a rather familiar apartment block. He looked up at it and took a few deep, heavy breaths before mounting the narrow staircase, two steps at a time as he did so. As soon as he got to the door he hesitated, whilst leaning on the door frame, before knocking on the battered wood.

There was no answer from the other side.

He frowned at this and knocked a second time, a little hard. When he still received no answer, he tried the door-handle and felt his heart drop as the door swung inwards at the slightest touch. It was most unsafe. Poking his head around the door frame he peered into Harry's flat; the only light came from a few stubby candles that were propped on the writing desk. He looked around until his eyes fell upon the bed and felt relief puncture his heart.

Closing the door behind him, he unbuttoned his restrictive waistcoat and pocket watch before walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge of the mattress, feeling it sink under his weight as he did so. He inhaled deeply, as he reached out and rested a hand on Harry's bare shoulder. The skin was chilled to the touch and yet, he found it oddly refreshing. He pressed his hand to Harry's forehead -despite the awkward angle -and frowned at the weak heat that rewarded his efforts.

He tried shaking the man lightly, "Harry? Harry, it's Draco. You need to wake up."

At first, he thought that these efforts, too, had been in vain. However he heard a soft rustling, a groan and then felt the sheets pulled taut beneath him as Harry turned onto his back so as to face him through two bleary eyes. "Draco?" he breathed, "wh-wha-? What are you doing here? What time is it? Have I missed the rehearsal?"

"I came to see what had happened to you, it's roughly eight o'clock in the evening, and yes you did miss rehearsals" Draco stated softly, as his fingers itched to brush away the damp fringe clinging to Harry's forehead. "Harry, you feel a little hot. Are you feeling alright?"

Harry shrugged, having not given it much thought. "I just felt a little down this evening that's all. Maybe I got ill while I was sleeping"

Draco gave a weak smile and smoothed his cool hand down Harry's flustered cheek. "Let me bring the throw-blanket over from by the stove, it should be plenty warm now" Harry smiled and watched through blurred vision as the blond man strode over to the stove, his step fairly light, and then returned with a well-heated, soothing blanket that dispelled all chill from his skin. Draco did a good job of tucking Harry into the soft cocoon before returning to gather some longer candles from the little kitchen area that Colin had tidied up the day prior.

Returning to the bed he positioned a cluster of candles on the bedside table and along the rough border lining over the headrest. It was about three inches thick, wide enough to balance a few of the thinner candles on, so that the healthy golden glow danced over the contours of Harry's sleepy features. Draco smiled softly, "better?"

Harry nodded, "much" Draco was about to stand up but a hand tugged on his loosened sleeve. "Don't leave"

"I'm not" the blond soothed in a slightly clipped tone, "I was going to get the chair so that I could sit down and read the latest thing you've written up for the performance"

Harry groaned, his hands coming up to shield his face, "I have not written a word since two nights ago"

Draco's jaw went slightly slack, "you haven't -but Harry! Opening night is only two months away! What are you going to do?"

"I don't know, alright?!" Harry half-shouted, his raw eyes feeling hot and tired. A headache was beginning to throb its way into existence. He sighed and collapsed back onto his pillows, an arm slung over his eyes.

Draco watched as Harry's breathing slowed down a little, calming a little with each passing moment. He breathed in deeply and crawled up onto the mattress on his knees, something he had not done unless he was alone in his own bedroom. He sat at the head of the bed, Harry's hand bending against his thigh. "Harry?" he tried softly, the warmth of the candles smoothing over on his features.

"Yes Draco?"

"If you want I can help you with the writing if you're having some trouble"

"I could not ask you to do that Draco. You have enough on your plate as it is. Plus Ginevra is asking more of your attention with each passing day"

Draco snorted to himself a little childishly. Harry sneaked a small look at his companion and smiled softly, rolling onto his side and propping his head up on his elbow. Draco looked down at him and smiled, stroking his index finger down the younger mans' nose. Harry watched, cross-eyed, as the finger drifted over the tip of his nose and down to his lips. He parted his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the blond mans index finger, his stomach and mind a whirling knot of frenzied emotions.

Draco swallowed thickly, feeling each muscle of his body stiffen. He was suddenly all too aware of how slim-toned and perfectly sculptured the young boys body was, under the thin sheet and warm blanket, his skin glowing golden under the light of the candles. He felt something within him unfurl, like a sleeping beast awakening.

He inhaled sharply.

Harry's eyes watched him, unwavering, before darting away, his head turning to stare down at the pillow beneath his bent elbows. He inhaled a shaking breath, "I would appreciate it if you leave" he stated in a clipped tone, his voice harsh and brittle, hanging in the air.

Draco was unable to find the words to reply. None of this was right. He made a hasty retreat from the bed -apartment -building, his tight waistcoat cutting off the circulation to his arms and legs -at least that is how he was feeling as he wandered back to his own abode in the Gothic tower. He was glad for the private bedchamber he had there; it was cool and dark, and had the ever-glowing hue of the inky-blue night sky.

Once in his bedchamber, hair disheveled and sweat staining his forehead and cheeks. He felt over-whelming heat running through his veins. His hands darted up and clutched within the sweaty tangle of his bright blond hair, his skin glowing blue in the moonlight that drifted in through the window in diamond shaped slits. He glanced towards his four-poster bed, the deep velvet coverlet was pulled taut of the crisp sheets and pillows. More throw pillows in velvet and lace pillowcases were positioned theatrically at the head of the bed.

He tried to calm down, rationalizing that he could sleep this all away like a bad dream, and awake the next morning as though nothing had happened. He ran his fingertips over the soft velvet and could not help but think about how much softer the throw-blanket upon Harry's bed felt -dipping and clinging to the gentle curves of the golden-skinned boys' naked body-

"Blasphemous!" he practically screamed, sweat exploding once again onto his chilled skin, as he clawed at his hair and tight clothes.

Not only was he suddenly feeling restless but he was so conflicted about everything that was going on around him that he just wanted to hide away in his chamber for the foreseeable future and not return to the blasted performance until the opening night. That way he could watch the performance, and return home to England and never look back.

He would leave everything behind; The Moulin Rouge, the growing need to sin -and Harry.


A/N: I am so sorry for the prolonged update. I did not realise how long it had been until I double-checked. I apologise for any spelling mistakes.