Moulin Madness!
by She's a Star
Author's Note: Eep! Sorry for the extreme lack of updates. I kept meaning to update, but then just didn't get around to it. So...now I have. :-) A million thanks to everyone who's reviewed!
And as to the ever-popular issue brought up by Cryssa, I'm exaggerating Christian's good looks just as I'm exaggerating the Duke's...not-so-good looks. (Now the fangirls may come after me, too. Eep.) I hope not to offend Richard Roxburgh (who has a very good reason to be offended and thankfully looks nothing like the Duke in real life) or Ewan McGregor (though I don't see why he'd be offended), if they were ever to come across this.
Disclaimer: Gildy is JKR's, though I wish wholeheartedly that he was mine. The Snape Seduction Squad and Gildy's Gals belong to themselves.
Chapter Three: Not In The Job Description
She tried squinting.
It was no good - she could still vaguely make out his grotesque face, and it was enough to get her a little dizzy with revulsion.
Resisting the urge to collapse into a dead faint, she forced a weak smile and very reluctantly placed her hands on his shoulders. He smiled brightly at her, and she held back a whimper.
Yes, there were perks in her field of work, mainly diamonds and lots of pretty clothes.
But sometimes - this situation being a prime example - it just wasn't worth it.
All around them, the other dancers were engaged in raunchy steps with deviously beaming rakes, but Satine decided to pass on those and instead opted to stand as far away from him as possible.
Oh yes; let the inner smoldering temptress flourish.
Cringing, Satine muttered, gaze firmly fixed on the wall across from them, "So...kind of you to take an interest in our little show."
...But it would be much kinder if you were accidentally wretchedly disfigured in some sort of natural disaster so that no one will have to look at your hideous face.
"Oh, I'm delighted to be involved," he said with a broad smile that caused her to shudder involuntarily. "Assuming you like what I do, of course."
Her jaw dropped before she could stop it.
Oh no.
Oh no-no-no-no-no.
She was done. She quit.
This was not in the job description.
....
All right, so it kind of was.
But she was a semi-respectable girl! She had standards!
And he was waaaay, waaaay below them.
Someone, anyone! she thought desperately. Help me!
She's a Star at your service.
You are an evil, evil soul.
Excuse me? I am writing the fic, m'dear; I could make things much, much worse.
Satine gulped.
Er...
Would you believe me if I said that there's more than meets the eye?
No.
. . .
Can't blame you there.
So you're going to help me, right?
I couldn't do that! It would ruin the story!
As opposed to ruining my sanity?!
Just trust me, you want to stick with this one.
Why? He'd better own a diamond mine.
Would that motivate you?
Possibly.
Well, then he owns one. Yup. He's a rich sucker. You wanna stick with this guy.
Fine.
The Count was studying her curiously, apparently wondering about the lapse in their conversation.
"What were we talking about again?" she asked, forcing a smile.
"Er...if you'll like what I do," he supplied.
Diamond mines, Satine. Think of the diamond mines.
"I'm...sure I will?" she asked weakly.
The corners of his mouth began to twitch, a sure sign that he was about to grin, and she immediately flinched and slammed her eyes shut.
"Are you all right?" he asked, sounding concerned.
"Yes, yes," she said, wanting to keep her eyes closed as long as humanely possible. "Er...something in my eye."
"Oh," he said weakly. "Well...anyway...Toulouse said we might be able to, er, do it in private."
Thanks, Toulouse.
"Did he?" she asked, wearily opening one eye and immediately shutting it again.
"Yes," he said, completely oblivious to the fact that she was about to hurl. "A private...er...poetry reading."
A poetry reading.
A poetry reading.
She'd heard lots of things in her line of work: the 'horizontal tango' (she wouldn't name any names, but only because the Narcoleptic Argentinean apparently didn't have one), 'getting your freak on' (which seemed quite historically incorrect for 1899, but then again, so was 'gitchi gitchi ya ya da da'), even 'organizing the card catalogs' from a man in glasses who was supposedly a librarian and most likely hadn't gotten anything more than a kiss on the cheek in his life.
But never a poetry reading.
Satine simply couldn't take it.
"You know," she said, opening her eyes and trying not to flinch. "I've never been much of a poetry fan. Really just...er...can't appreciate it. But Nini here-" She grabbed Nini's arm from where she was dancing nearby. ("Hey!" Nini cried indignantly.), "-Nini loves poetry. I'm sure she'd love a private poetry reading with you!"
The Count looked rather dejected.
"What?!?" Nini screeched after taking one look at the Count. "No, no, no! I can't appreciate poetry! I really can't! I can't even...er, read!"
"Well, I was planning on us doing it orally," the Count suggested with a very annoying look of wide-eyed innocence.
Nini and Satine exchanged an incredulous look before Nini grabbed the arm of another dancer and yanked her over.
"Baby Doll loves, er, poetry, don't ya, Baby Doll?" Nini asked. "Yeah. You've got your girl here, Shakespeare."
"What?!" shrieked Baby Doll. "No!"
"I didn't know that you were so...uncomfortable with it," the Count said in confusion, looking from Satine to Nini to Baby Doll. "I mean, it's not all that strange, though I do have a new technique that isn't used much-"
"I can't take it anymore," Nini scowled, and she disappeared at a frightening speed with Baby Doll behind her. Satine had taken a few steps forward when a frighteningly deep voice filled her ears. She turned to see Chocolat beaming slyly at the Count.
"I like poetry," he informed the Count, wriggling his eyebrows.
"Er...all right," the Count said, glancing over at Satine. "You're not exactly what I had in mind, but...I suppose you're just as good as anyone else, right?"
Chocolat winked.
Oh, good God. The Count really was desperate. (And she didn't even want to think about what Chocolat could be thinking.)
With a very reluctant sigh, she stomped back over to the Count and looped her arm miserably through his.
"Oh, come on," she said impatiently. "Let's go read your damn poetry."
He grinned eagerly at her as they walked out of the club.
"I don't think I'm anything spectacular, but I've been told that I'm quite good," he said excitedly. "Toulouse was reluctant at first, but then even he said that I've got a knack for it."
Satine resisted the urge to throw herself to the ground, sobbing hysterically, and instead took a deep breath and tried to ignore him.
Diamond mines. Diamond mines.
*
"And so I walked by the shop window, took a glance at the dazzling reflection inside, and said to myself, 'Bless me, I am quite good-looking, aren't I?'"
The group of can-can girls that had been fawning over them for the past half hour burst into shrill giggles, and one of them sighed, "Oh, Gilderoy, you're so witty."
"I know, I know," he said with a sparkling grin and a wave of his hand. "But don't give me all the credit! Surely my dear new friend Count Von Groovy deserves a bit of praise as well?"
Grinning smugly to himself, the Duke...er, Count Von Groovy tried to look humble as the girls immediately surrounded him, throwing their arms around him and giggling. He winked at one, and she swooned violently before collapsing to the floor in a dead faint.
Ah yes, this was where he belonged: surrounded by beautiful women having witty and intelligent conversations with those equally as attractive as he was! (All right, perhaps not equally. But quite close.)
"It was, of course, very hard to take, losing my memory," continued Gilderoy Lockhart dramatically. "With no clue who I was, no clue what I had achieved! (And it was a lot, mind you. I'm the only wizard in the history of...well, wizardkind to win the Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award five times!) Sometimes it was hard, very hard to take indeed. But..." He sniffed dramatically. "I persevered!"
The dancers now had silent tears running down their cheeks.
"Oh, Gilderoy!" said one in an exceptionally choked voice. "You're so brave!"
He grinned. "Yes, yes, I know."
Just then, an eruption of giddy screams from the opposite side of the club filled the air. Everyone looked over to see six girls standing in the corner, three of them bouncing up and down and holding lilac signs decorated with Gilderoy photographs and the words 'WE LOVE YOU, GILDY!' and 'YOUR BODY'S TOO GILDYLICIOUS!'. The other three were scowling with their arms crossed in front of their chests, staring in exasperation at the Gildy-lovers.
Gilderoy chuckled. "Duty calls."
"We love you, Gilderoy!" shrieked one of the girls.
"Marry me!" cried another.
"No, marry me!" screeched the third.
"This sucks," announced one of the girls who apparently did not have a liking for dear Gilderoy.
"Tell me about it," said another. "What this place needs is some Slytherin guys."
"Luuuucius," the third said in a very dazed sort of voice.
"Snaaaape," added the second.
"Gooooyle."
The other two stopped and stared in horror at the first, who began to whistle innocently.
The can-can dancers looked about as confused by this display as the Duke...Count Von Groovy felt, but Gilderoy seemed to have experienced this sort of thing before. He threw a few roguish winks at them and smiled broadly before turning back.
"Celebrity is as celebrity does," he announced, very solemnly. "Fame is a fickle friend....remember that."
All the can-can dancers nodded, entranced.
Count Von Groovy (whom the authoress will refrain from calling 'The Duke' any longer) felt a bit annoyed. He was supposed to be the center of attention, not this devastatingly blonde narcissistic idiot!
Well, he wasn't going to stand for it anymore. It just so happened that he had the most stunning courtesan of all waiting for him in the Red Room - he didn't need to associate with these lowlifes!
"I'm leaving," he announced jerkily.
Gilderoy looked up in surprise. "So soon, Von Groovy old boy?"
He nodded stiffly. "I'll be seeing you again."
...When I'm with Warner, that is, so he can knock out a few of those 5-time-award-winning teeth.
"Nice meeting you, then!" Gilderoy grinned broadly.
"Do you have to go?" one of the can-can girls asked, pouting.
"Yes, yes, I'm afraid so," he said briskly, rising and making his way toward the exit.
The route he chose, however, wasn't a very safe one. It happened to be right through the Snape Seduction Squad and Gildy's Gals.
One of the Gildy-lovers froze, very abruptly, and actually tore their eyes away from Gildy.
"Ewan!" she squealed delightedly.
"I win what?" asked Count Von Groovy in confusion.
One of the Snape Seduction Squad members purred in approval. "Now, this is more like it!"
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Count Von Groovy said very stiffly, attempting to brush past them and failing horribly.
"I saw him first," announced the Ewan-squealer, grabbing the Count's arm with a surprisingly firm grasp considering her petite frame.
"You can have Gildy!" retorted the purring Snape Seduction Squad member. "I want Ewan!" She paused and added, "Though Snape would suffice."
Soon, the two had leached onto his arms and were pulling back and forth.
"He's mine!"
"No, mine!"
Quite frightened, the Count cast a look over at Gilderoy, who only chuckled and waved merrily.
"Celebrity is as celebrity does!" he called, grinning.
Smarmy prat.
*
Eighteen minutes and twenty-two seconds.
Surely he had left by now.
Satine peeked out from behind her dressing screen to find that the Count was very much still there, standing with his back to her and humming to himself as he looked out the heart-shaped window.
Does he never give up? she wondered in frustration.
Apparently not.
She had stood behind the dressing screen for what seemed an eternity, but it seemed like the hideous brute would wait an eternity for her.
Well, fine.
She'd just have to grin and bear it.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped out from behind the screen and asked, in a very flat and toneless voice, "How do I look."
The Count turned around and studied her, then stammered, "Y...you look...you look...not very seductive?"
Good. Just what she was going for.
She'd decided to abandon the good ol' black corset and lacy robe for a very loose cotton nightgown and bright pink bunny slippers that had, by the workings of She's a Star, appeared mysteriously out of thin air.
Mwahaha.
"Yeah, well, I suppose I'm just not coquettish and alluring enough to deserve your...poetry," she said with forced sadness. "Too bad, so sad, GET OUT."
The Count blinked.
"No," he said weakly. "No, you're still beautiful."
...
Did he never get up? He was really desperate for some poetry.
"I...I didn't think that someone as...knowledgeable in the field as I thought you'd be - you know, with all the Bohemian revolutionaries and all, would dislike poetry so much," the Count said, almost dejectedly. "It could just be a quick one, if you wanted."
Diamond mines, Satine. Diamond mines. Think of the diamond mines.
"Er..." she replied intelligently, and was a bit surprised to see that she had now mastered the feat of looking at him without flinching or wanting to hurl. Quite the achievement.
"Or we could just talk for a while, if you wanted," he offered.
"Um...okay," she agreed weakly. Talking. None of her...clients had ever proposed that before.
"So..." he said weakly. "You didn't perform tonight."
"Nope," Satine said, shaking her head. "I suppose the author just wanted to hurry things along."
"Actually," the Count said, rather sheepishly, "I think she was trying to punish me."
"Oh," Satine said weakly.
. . .
. . .
An awkward silence arose.
All right, obviously the talking thing wasn't going to work.
With a very reluctant sigh, she asked, "So, d'you want to get your...poetry reading over and done with?"
He looked a bit more excited at this. "Sure!"
Diiiiiamond miiiines. Diiiiamond miiiines.
"All righty then," she said, biting her lip and trying to work up the courage.
Diamonds. Lots of them. Diamonds and diamonds and diamonds and diamonds. Necklaces, bracelets, rings! Think of the diiiiamonds.
And so, with all the strength she could muster, she hurled the Count onto the bed and began the important task of unbuttoning his suit jacket, all the while yelling out brilliant phrases like, "Free the tiger!" and "I need your poetry now!"
This, however, seemed not to be what the Count had in mind.
"Why do you always think this?!?" he demanded, rather frustrated.
"What?" Satine asked, bewildered, as he lightly pushed her off of him.
"Well, you see, Satine, poetry is a bunch of words put together to portray the complexity of human emotion."
Oooooohhhhhh.
"Oooooohhhhhh."
And so she felt incredibly stupid.
"So, you were actually talking about poetry," Satine said slowly. "Like Shakespeare. Not..." She felt her cheeks flush. What was she doing? Was she blushing?! There was nothing to blush about! She got paid to think dirty!
"No!" the Count said, shaking his head vigorously. "So that's why you were so unenthusiastic."
"Exactly," said Satine, nodding and feeling as though a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "In truth, the diamond mines were all that kept me going."
He squinted his eyes at her in confusion for a moment, but didn't question her.
"Would you like to hear some now?"
"Sure," Satine said, giving him a smile. "Though I really doubt I'll ever be able to think of poetry the same way."
The Count grinned back. "I can't blame you."
*
And so the singing of Your Song progressed without many errors, complete with sky-dancing and all, and for the first time throughout the course of this very twisted story, things started to go right.
...But not for long.
Dun dun DUUUN.
Author's Note II: Someone please give my fluff-n-humor muse, Steve, a stern talking-to. She's turning this into fluff, when I strictly told her it was to remain humor.