AN: So basically I'm ripping off Moulin Rouge and making it a Harry Potter fanfic, so don't knock me if this is exactly like Moulin Rouge, cuz it will be... I don't own anything related to Harry Potter or Moulin Rouge.
Note2: Italic is singing.
Chapter One
The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved... in return.
The Purple Dragon... a barroom... a dance hall and a brothel... owned by a man named Gavyn Mims. A place of nighttime pleasures... Where the rich and powerful came to play with the beautiful women of the netherworld. The most beautiful of all these... was the woman I loved. Hermione Granger. She was a scarlet woman and the star of the Purple Dragon during summer vacation and a perfect student when school kicked in.
I know it might be hard to believe that Hermione Granger would sell her love to men, but in truth the Purple Dragon was were she actually grew up. Her 'parents' were nothing more than actors paid by Gavyn Mims. And no Hermione was not a pureblood or a half-blood. She was exactly who she said she was, her life was just a bit more different from what she told.
The woman I loved... is... dead.
I first came to live in Hogsmeade one year ago. The year was 1997 and I had just turned 17. I had moved to Hogsmeade Village to pursue a life away from my Death Eater parents. Sure Potter had been able to defeat Voldemort weeks into summer vacation, but my parents still believed and practiced 'the old ways.' The reason why I left was because I wanted my freedom and I knew I would never be able to handle living with them.
I never really believed in all that, you know 'kill all muggles and mudbloods.' When I was younger yes, I did believe what my parents told me, but that was it was being drilled into my head almost every single day. Finally when I turned 16 I had become my own person and I realized that everything that I was taught by my parents was sheer rubbish.
Hogsmeade wasn't exactly the place where you could buy a house. If you were really lucky you could buy a flat, but other than that you had to rent. I spoke with Madam Rosmerta and she told me were I could find a flat that would meet my expectations. I ignored her suggestion because I knew that would be the first place my father would look for me. I wandered the streets of Hogsmeade until I reached the end of town. Off in the distance I could see a hoard of lights turn on, since it was becoming quite dark, so like the fool I was I set off towards them.
When I got close enough I a board of lit fireflies, charmed in place, that read 'Purple Dragon.' My father always bragged about the ass he got at the Purple Dragon to his friends when my mother wasn't around. I had never knew that the Purple Dragon was located outside of Hogsmeade; I had always figured it was somewhere tucked away in London. I continued to walk even though I knew I shouldn't, not that I though paying for sex was completely horrid, but I had better things to do than get laid at the moment.
As soon as I deiced to turn around and head back to Hogsmeade I noticed a rather large building perpendicular to the Purple Dragon. It was still light enough that I could tell that it was an apartment building and I thought it the perfect place to hid from my parents and my old life.
After I was all settled, with all of my things un-shrunk and put away I sat down and started my life over. And what would my new life consist of you might ask. Well, I'll tell you. I was going to be a writer. I was going to write about life, love and drama. There was only one problem. I was only 17 and I had never really experience any of these, except drama, but even that wasn't all that interesting.
Just as I was about to bang my head on my grandmothers type writer, an unconscious Spaniard fell though my roof. Then a short Scotsman dressed as a geisha barged into my one room flat.
"Top of the morning to ya." he stumbled clearly intoxicated. "My name is Andrew Spencer Paco Randee-Paul-Wisner."
"What?" I asked being utterly confused.
"I'm terribly sorry about all this. We were upstairs rehearsing a play."
"What?"
A play. Something they had been working on for a long time, something called Magnificent Magnificent.
"It's set in Tibet." Randee told me, ignoring my shock.
Somehow the unconscious Spaniard had hit his head, tangled his foot in a rope, fell off a ladder, fell though the floor and was now dangling just inches from my floor.
"How is he?" a man, who I later found out was named Hoss, joined by two of his friends asked looking down from the giant hole in my ceiling.
"Oh, wonderful, the Spaniard is unconscious. Now the play will not be ready to present to the financier tomorrow." Anothing man said, who I also learned later was named Saller.
"Right, Radnee, I still have to finish the music" Hoss spoke softly.
"Well, we can just find someone else to read the part." Randee told them.
Saller looked over at the other man who was named Aaron, then looked back down at me "Now where in heavens name are we going to find someone to read the role of a young, sensitive Chinese poet soy bean farmer?"
Soon I found myself upstairs, telling them my story and then standing in for the unconscious Spaniard.
"The hills animate with the euphonious symphonies of descant." Randee sang horribly as Hoss banged on glasses filled with water.
"Oh, Stop!" Saller screamed. "Stop that insufferable droning!" he yelled at Hoss, "It's droning out my words! Just stick to some decorative piano." There were defiantly some artistic differences over Saller's lyrics.
"A geisha wouldn't say that about a hill. How about, the hills are vital intoning the descant?" Randee said as he tripped over something invisible.
"The hills quack and shake..." Hoss provided.
"The hills are incarnate with symphonic melodies!" The Spaniard yelled as he woke up, but then passed back out.
"the hills..." I started, but it seemed like no one had heard me. "The hills..." I had an I idea that might just work for the song, but everyone was talking so loud and fast that I could get a word in. I was starting to get pissed so I just opened my mouth and belted out, "The hills, are alive with the sound of music!"
"The hills are alive with the sound of music," everyone, but Saller pondered.
"I love it!" The Spaniard yelled again finally waking up fully. "The hills are alive... with the sound... of music. It fits perfectly!"
"With song they have sung for a thousand years." The second part came so naturally that I actually smiled.
"Incredible!" Randee slurred happily then turned to Saller, "You two should write the show together."
"Excuse me?" Saller asked angrily.
Turned out that Randee's idea was not what Saller wanted to hear.
"Goodbye!" Saller yelled as he left slammed the door.
Seconds after Saller had left Randee grabbed one of the glasses Hoss had been banging on and raised it to me. "Here's to your first job in Hogsmeade." He smiled and downed the glass in one swallow. I later turned out that it wasn't water in those glasses but muggle vodka.
"Randee, Mims will never agree." Hoss's voice was hushed, but I still heard him.
Randee turned to me and raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever written a play before?"
"No."
"The boy has talent!" The Spaniard roared suddenly. "I like him."
"With Draco, we can write the Bohemian revolutionary show we always dreamt of." Randee gushed.
The Bohemian what now? I was really getting confused.
"How will we convince Mims?" Hoss asked.
Apparently Randee already had a plan cooked up in his sloshed, little mind. Hermione. They'd have me dress in my most expensive dress robes and pass me off as an investor. Once I got Hermione to listen to my poetry, she'd be amazed and insist that I write Magnificent, Magnificent.
But all I could hear was Bohemian, over and over again in my head. "I can't write the show!" I yelled as I stared walking towards the door.
"Why not?" Aaron asked.
"I don't even know if I am a Bohemian... whatever."
"Well, do you believe in beauty?" Hoss asked. It was only like word association when Hoss said beauty all I could think about was when my mother took me to the part of Lake Tahoe that was in California when I was fourteen. It was one of the most gorgeous places I'd ever seen in my life.
"Yes." I said absentmindedly.
"Do you believe in Freedom?" the Spaniard asked.
"Of course." Freedom was the main reason why I had moved away. I wanted to be free from my parents and do what I knew was right.
"Truth?"
Truth? I had been lied to my entire life of course I believed in truth. "Yes." I answered not looking at any of the guys in the room.
"Do you believe in Love?"
"Love? Love?" All my life I had been addicted to the thought of love. That's what my fantasies consisted of... someone who would love me for me and not for my name or money. I finally looked up and smiled. "Above all things, I believe in love. Love is like oxygen. Love is a many-splendid thing. Love lifts us up in where we belong. All you need is love!"
"Then it is true. You really are a Bohemian revolutionary." Randee cheered.
It was the perfect plan. I was to audition for Hermione... the only problem was I had no idea that it was Hermione Granger I would be seeing that night. Oh on, the fact that this girl I was going to meet that night had the same name as Hermione Granger didn't even register in my mind.
After I was dressed we were off to the Purple Dragon. There I would perform my poetry for Hermione.