Rating: PG
Genre: Romance/Comedy
Pairing: R/Hr, perhaps more later
Disclaimer: All characters and setting belong to J.K. Rowling. We receive no profit from this. Only the OC (Professor Letalis) belongs to us. Moulin Rouge doesn't belong to us either.
A/N: Once again, thanks so much for reviewing! We have a little request for any Moulin Rouge fans that are reading. If you have a favorite scene that you'd like to see practiced in our story, let us know in a review! We'll try to work it into the story. Hope you enjoy Chapter 3! Oh, and feedback keeps the Blast ended Skrewts pleased, so send it on in!
A Thousand Paper Cuts
Peeves was, quite frankly, peeved. None of the students were out of bed and being naughty. He liked to get them in trouble, and he wasn't allowed in the common rooms. Not even Harry Potty was out with his little friends.
Peeves had overheard some talk about a play, but he didn't really bother with it. Theater wasn't a very good torture device, whatever way you looked at it. And Peeves didn't quite connect in his spectral little head that the play was what kept all the students exhausted and comfortable in their rooms.
Banging on the knights' visors and throwing spitballs at the trophy cabinet made him feel a little better. He wandered around some more looking for a House Elf to terrorize until a low voice drew him to a door.
It was that new woman, Professor Letalis. Peeves didn't particularly like her. She had stared right through him on her first day, like he wasn't even there. No one ignored Peeves. He simply wouldn't tolerate it. He blew raspberries at her and tried throwing mashed potatoes in her hair, but none of his antic fazed her. He sniffed and went to torture firsties for a while because her attitude got him so down.
He leaned against the stone and listened carefully to the voices within.
"I don't know, Nire. I just don't. It's such a short time and the War could flare again at any moment. If I lose one, Morgan forbid, then the show will shatter and they'll lose all faith. I don't want to ruin it for them but either way, there seem to be so many obstacles. False hope isn't the answer for these kids." Letalis' voice was laden with fatigue.
"They're not as young as you seem to think, Letalis. These are full-grown men and women in children's bodies. They've seen war. They know evil and its foul brothers. The hope is shaky, but I think they need it more than they don't." The strange voice paused and another one broke in.
"You won't lose any either, Letalis. We're watching over you and the children. We won't let Lord Voldemort and his forces close without you or Dumbledore knowing."
Peeves stuck his head gingerly through the wall, hoping not to be noticed.
The Elf was smiling gently now. Her dark eyes burned like the embers, and she reached out a hand to the flames. "Thank you."
Two vague figures in the fireplace flared as laughter hissed from the wood. "We're just encouraging you enough to go through with it. You don't have to thank us. Your mind was already made up, even if you voice your doubts. Elves are so shady."
"Oh, be quiet, Anairb. Your race isn't much better."
The Anairb, Peeves suspected, shrugged fiery shoulders. "Not with the whole Men thing again? We're fine, just in tough spots more often than not. We all have problems."
All three brooded silently.
"Well," said the other flame person, Nire, "have you picked the leads yet?"
"I hope it's that Granger girl. She's got quite a bit of passion. Especially for the redhead boy."
"The redhead boy wasn't too bad either."
Letalis smiled. "You'll just have to wait like everyone else. It could be Ron and Hermione. Draco and Lavender. Harry and Pansy. Neville and Luna. Who knows? Infinite possibilities."
"We know you'll go with the ones who already have the possibility. They can shape that beautifully, and you know that, you old bat."
"I am not old."
"Yeah, only 2, 341. Not old at all."
The fire snickered and sputtered out of existence. Letalis stared at it quietly and turned around, smiling grimly.
"Well, Peeves. Should it be Hermione and Ron? Draco? Parvati? Colin?"
Peeves looked momentarily startled before he blew a loud raspberry and disappeared.
"I don't know either," muttered Letalis to herself. "Which ones... which ones..."
Letalis toyed with the question for hours before settling into a dreamless sleep.
...
The next morning excited whispers stirred Harry from his awkward position in his armchair. His head felt like it was hanging on by an inch of skin like Sir Nicolas'. After bemoaning the sad state of his joints, Harry noticed the dozens of early risers and tuned in to the quiet talking rushing around the room.
"Do you think she's decided already?" questioned Colin.
"Oh, I hope I get to be Satine!" came a piercing and girlish voice, inevitably Lavender or Parvati.
"Come on Nev, stop trying to tango. I want to see if the cast list is up!" was Ginny's impatient reply to Neville's attempt of engaging her in a twirl.
Groggily, Harry remembered the yesterday's events and smiled. Despite the fact that Ron and Hermione were in a row yet again, Harry was bubbling with a shocking excitement that he couldn't recall experiencing before. He looked around for Ron and Hermione and spotted them. At opposite ends of the common room. Harry sighed in resignation. Hermione saw that he had woken up and waved jovially. Harry grinned weakly and motioned her over. She walked away from Lavender and Parvati, not looking the least bit upset about leaving the two giddy girls.
"Good morning, Harry," she said cheerfully, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary with the flair of the best Broadway actress.
"'Lo, Hermione," Harry replied, "why hasn't anyone left yet?" he asked while he glanced over the room of the restless sixth and seventh year Gryffindors.
"Oh, we decided that we all wanted to go down together to look. You know, moral support and that. We were waiting on you, actually."
"Oh, well- I guess I'm set now. You think they'll mind if I'm in my nightwear?" he pondered out loud but was drowned out by many cheers from the rest of the Gryffindors. "Ron, over here!" Harry shouted above the chaos. Hermione pursed her lips in an uncanny imitation of McGonagall. Ron trudged over to where they were sitting.
"Morning, Harry. Hermione." Ron mumbled quickly.
"Hi, Ron," Hermione responded coldly. Harry sighed and suggested that they follow the wild pack to the DADA classroom. Ron and Hermione assented without exchanging words. They walked rapidly in heavy silence. When the theater doors came into sight, the trio could hardly miss the clamor of disheveled but impossibly bright students outside.
I guess the cast list is up then, Harry thought, chuckling inwardly. When everyone finally settled down, a large piece of parchment paper previously posted on the large wooden doors wriggled and folded into a mouth.
"This is eerily like the Sorting Hat," whispered Ron.
Harry laughed, probably because Ron had said 'eerily.'
The Casting Parchment spoke,
"One day, an Elf came to Hogwarts
to create a drama, of sorts.
Quite soon she found
That theatric talent abounds
In that lovely little castle called Hogwarts."
"Ahem. Now. Please step inside, take a seat, and I shall scroll through the cast and crew list." If the Parchment had had eyes, it would have glared because of the lack of applause. "I tell you, a piece of paper never gets as much notice as a talking hat. Bloody textiles."
Seamus shook his head, "Nah, I think it's just the limericks. Not too impressive. The Irish have plenty of other poetic sources. You should recite an epic ballad next time around."
The Parchment was silent a moment. "You think so? Well, all right. Note to self: learn iambic pentameter. Well, inside, you cheeky folks."
As they filed in, the Parchment took center stage. "Now listen, all of you. I'm only going through once. Don't ask me to repeat myself because you weren't paying attention. First smart-arse who thinks about doing it to peeve me gets a thousand paper cuts. In between their toes. Capice?"
Everyone sat stunned.
"Isn't it zero tolerance to threaten violence?" inquired Dean.
"Even if it's paper?" Seamus snickered back.
"Parchment, thank you," said the Casting Parchment.
And with that, shiny black words rolled up the expanse of the Parchment and stopped dead center.
Moulin RougeNot a single person breathed.
Crew
Pansy Parkinson .... Make-up Head
Anthony Goldstein .... Lighting Head
Justin Finch-Fletchley .... Sound Head
Theodore Nott .... Stage Manager
Zacharias Smith .... Costume Manager
Terry Boot .... Prop King
Chorus
Mandy Brocklehurst
Lisa Turpin
Susan Bones
Millicent Bulstrode
Dean Thomas
Michael Corner
Ernie Macmillan
Blaise Zabini
Cast
Colin Creevey .... Henri Toulouse-Lautrec
Harry Potter .... Harold Zidler
Draco Malfoy .... The Duke
Seamus Finnegan .... The Doctor
Neville Longbottom .... The Unconscious Argentinean
Gregory Goyle .... Satie
Hannah Abbot .... Marie
Ginny Weasley .... Nini Legs-in-the-Air
Lavender Brown.... Arabia
Parvati Patil .... China Doll
Padma Patil .... Môme Fromage
Vincent Crabbe .... Audrey
Luna Lovegood .... The Green Fairy
Congratulations rippled through the theater, but everyone kept it quiet because they were all anticipating the announcement of the leading rolls...
And now, Hogwarts Theater is proud to introduce the stars of this years' production.
Leading as Satine...
Hermione Granger
And as Christian...
Ron Weasley
Congratulations to everyone! This was a very hard decision to make, as you are ridiculously gifted. Our first rehearsal will be tonight after dinner. I expect to see everyone there.
Professor Letalis
Surprise did not even scratch the surface of what everyone was feeling.
Only after the cast list faded did the talking begin.
"I get to tango!" shouted an ecstatic Neville. "Ginny, I get to tango with you!"
"Oh, that's just absolutely corking," Ginny replied, looking sorrowfully at her toes. Neville flew over to her and pulled her into a preposterous version of the tango. "Thank Merlin for choreographers!" Ginny exclaimed as Neville dropped her.
"Oops. Sorry there, Ginny." Neville blushed a painful scarlet as he helped her up.
Lavender and Parvati were in a fix. They weren't sure whether to be happy they got parts or upset that they were cast as whores.
Harry couldn't quite remember who his character was, so he asked. As Seamus so politely put it, he was "the ringleader of all the pretty prostitutes."
"Ah. Well, isn't that just swell?" was Harry's embarrassed reply.
"It's a good part, Harry," said Luna Lovegood as she drifted over. "I'm a fairy this time. I'd rather have been Tinkerbell, but I suppose a decent Hook is too much to ask."
Harry, Dean, and Seamus stared at her in consternation.
"What's she on about?" mouthed Seamus.
Dean put up his hands in surrender and Harry said, "Not a bloody clue."
Ron and Hermione were still looking at the cast list in disbelief. Neither had moved for a few minutes, and Harry was beginning to get worried. Was either of them even breathing? Slowly, a smile spread across Hermione's face.
"Oh, Ron! We're the leads!" was all she could exclaim as she threw her arms around a flabbergasted Ron. Harry smiled knowingly behind his hand.
...
Ron's face was the first thing Hermione remembered when she had woken up that morning. The details of their fight made her stomach twist and curl painfully. It wasn't even Hermione's fault. She hadn't known that actual physical contact of the mouth wasn't mandatory... okay, she had, really. But her reason was different than Ron's. He only wanted to upset her. She had only kissed Draco in a moment of insanity. She sighed and reluctantly left the comfort of her bed, listening absentmindedly to Lavender and Parvati's squealing gibberish. She resolved to ignore Ron until he apologized. It would be hard, since all she wanted to do was explain to him exactly why she had kissed Draco. But silence was better than the humiliation she would suffer if she did that.
Hermione's plan was going reasonably well until the leads were announced. Then her carefully formed barriers tumbled, and thoughts crammed so hard into her head, she was worried Ron would hear them.
Oh! I got Satine, and Ron got Christian, and oh! That means that I'm going to get to kiss him! Just like it was on stage with Malfoy, only now it will really be Ron! Oh Hermione, you're positively nutters. What if he doesn't want to kiss me? Or what if I'm a horrific snogger? Although Malfoy did seem to think I was decent...no! Do not think about that. Oh no I have to kiss him too. He's the duke. I wonder what Ron thinks about all of this. Knowing Ron, he's probably thinking about Quidditch or something equally unimportant. Well, I'll make him think about this.
At exactly that moment, Hermione hurled herself onto Ron, latching on desperately and bubbling over with nonsensical ramblings. Ron peered down at Hermione bemusedly because his previous silent best friend was now hardly inhaling as she spoke beyond his comprehension level. Girls were bloody weird.
"Er, yes we are!" he responded pathetically. Hermione looked into his eyes and laughed. Ron caught his breath before laughing too. The fight dissipated between them. As a shriek bounced after the beams and walls, Hermione gradually released Ron and turned to see the commotion.
"Make-up?! I'm on the crew?!" came a wailing, whiny voice that could only belong to Pansy Parkinson.
"Calm down, Pansy, it's only a bloody play!" Draco announced, sounding peeved enough to sic the Casting Parchment on her.
"Only a play? Oh that's easy for you to say, Mr. Duke! My mother will die if she finds out that- that Mudblood got the part of me!" Pansy replied with dramatic flourish.
"And I thought you wouldn't have the heart to play a Muggle, Pansy," said Harry dryly.
Ignoring him, Pansy went on. "And I wanted to be Satine so you could be Christian, Draco." She clapped her hands over her mouth in horror and bolted from the room. Draco watched her go, on the verge of hysterical laughter.
"Leave the acting to all the Gryffindor twits and me, Pansy," he called to her, letting a few short laughs echo after her.
"Well! This will be quite the experience," Draco drawled. "And I see that I shall have the pleasure of a few- intimate moments with a certain someone. But I promise I'll be gentle." He looked directly at Hermione, and the leering gaze brought a shiver racing down her spine. He came up to her, pressing his mouth lightly against her ear. "Looking forward to it, Granger," he whispered suggestively. He turned dramatically and sauntered away. Hermione felt her knees give out as she watched him leave with her mouth gaping.
"What did he say to you, 'Mione?" Ron growled as he steadied her.
"Nothing!" Hermione squeaked and jumped back. "Nothing of any importance." She took a deep breath. "Come on now, we need to go to Herbology." Thankfully, Ron let the topic slide, and the trio walked to the greenhouse, chatting excitedly about their parts.
Dinner that night was something else. None of the sixth or seventh years wasted a single moment. They devoured the food with such an alarming rate, a teary House Elf came out to Dumbledore and sobbingly said they'd run out of breaded pudding.
Most everyone felt guilty and slowed down their pace but continued to eat steadily. Within seconds after finishing, they all raced to the theater.
Letalis was sitting calmly, in midair. She floated unperturbed in rosy light, smiling beatifically at the students as they came in quietly.
"Welcome to Hogwarts' First Musical, Moulin Rouge!" The grin on her face was splendid. Everyone caught onto her enthusiasm and cheered.
"I'm so proud of all of you. Every single one of you managed to shock and stir my senses. There is such talent in you.
"I will spend time with each of you individually. Starting with the cast and then crew. Later I will introduce the professors who have agreed to help make this show a success. We will begin rehearsing scenes one at time. First we will fine-tune the acting. Then the singing. Then the dancing. And finally the technical cues. So crew, you won't have to come for a while except for specified meetings when we'll do techie practices. You can come if you'd like. Be our first audience. It would help the producer to receive outside input. But you must be sworn to secrecy. As all the cast must be.
"Cast as a whole will be divided among our choral director and choreographer. The dialect coach will help those of you who need it. For the first week or so of practices, I will be concentrating much of my attention on the leads.
"All right, people. Let's get to work." With a wave of her hand, everyone stood up and rushed the stage, glowing in electric lights. They looked spectacular.