-1Chapter One: Prologue.

Disclaimer: Moulin Rouge and Harry Potter are not mine. Boo.

Summary: This is kind of a test chapter. I just want to see how the response is. Basically, I transported Harry Potter characters into the Moulin Rouge movie. I am going to be mixing and matching and using creative license, but feel free to leave me a note if you have a suggestion. So far we have Satine, played by Lily Evans, Christian, played by James Potter, and Harold Zilder, played by Peter Pettigrew. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this twisted little world.

It seems to me that a strange sorrow still hangs in the air of Paris, clinging to the buildings and hiding in the dirty alleys. The city still remembers. It helps me hold my memories. There are so many days to recount and so many nights to recall, I might go completely insane without the thought that I am not the only one who knows the story. Sometimes I think I can hear a voice hanging above the city. It sings with a damped melody, just to me. And I listen, with all my heart, I listen.

"He came to us

And left so soon…"

It calls to me every day, every second, every hour. It won't let me sleep. It won't let me move on or forget. No, it reminds me of the promise I made not so long ago.

"With spirit enough for everyone

With bright life in his step."

The echo lasts for so long. For so long…I can't get rid of it until I replace it with her sweet voice, singing our secret song. As I said, its only their to remind me of her everyday. But how could I forget her? How could anyone forget the love of their life? No one could forget Lily.

"He came to get away,

To give himself another chance…"

Today this soundtrack that has been plaguing and saving me all these months is the loudest it has ever been and I know that it is time to keep my promise. To write of our love eternal. Everyone must read of our lives. It is what she wanted. It is what I must want now.

"A boy so young,

Able to see the world so well."

Now, as I sit with my typewriter, the clicking keys are the only sound my ears hear. The torturing voice has left me to my duty on this not-so extraordinary day. Nothing has changed from one day to the next. My flat is still covered with empty Absinthe bottles and crumbled papers, my clothes are unwashed and my face is unshaved. The world is still moving today as it has everyday for the past year, though so long ago I had expected it to stop with her heart.

"Our paths crossed,

One terribly fateful day."

A moment ago I was sitting on the floor, head in my hands, but now I am at my desk. My face is still tearstained from all of these long days. No, nothing else has changed. She has not come back to me, though I have wished every day that she would, by some miracle, appear to me. I can see her in mind my perfectly, after so many hours of staring at her and so many nights spent dreaming of her…But it is no help for me.

"Our hours passed

Speaking of everything

And this he said to me…"

The only help I receive is my one greatest writing. One simple sentence that defines my entire world. The little phrase I taught to everyone that would listen. I only have consolation when I remember its meaning. Let me share it here with you. Think upon it for a moment before you go on with this. "The greatest thing, you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved, in return."

"The greatest thing,

You'll ever learn

Is just to love,

And be loved in return."

As I go on telling this tale, I weep for all that has passed. Nothing has changed between yesterday and today. Except that today, I am finally ready to share the story I've been keeping to myself. Those involved know bits and pieces, but none know the whole truth, as I do. The truth of the Moulin Rouge.

A night club. A dance hall. And a Bordello. The images of can-can dancer, all dressed extravagantly. The incessant movement of the place. The building itself, with its ever-turning windmill blades. The Moulin Rouge, with all of it bright colors and loud music, would stop for no one.

Ruled over by Peter Pettigrew. A kingdom of nighttime pleasures. The bright red suit he always wore. His raspy and cheerful voice. The way he always managed to keep the entertainment going. He had an energy about him on stage. Constantly tempting the viewer to take a hands on role in the performance…

Where the rich and powerful came to play with the young and beautiful creatures of the underworld. There wasn't a night when there wasn't a wealthy statesmen or a government official enjoying himself inside those walls and there wasn't a night when they didn't have the time of their lives with the girls.

The most beautiful of all these, was the woman I loved. Lily. A courtesan. She sold her love to men. I had known her before the Moulin Rouge. Before she had been entered into the world of dirty little secrets and fetishes. We had met at Hogwarts and from the first moment I had known her, I had loved her. She had always felt quite the opposite about myself. I had not been completely lost to her though, until I saw her there. Her wine red hair, emerald eyes, and the way she seemed so free in her costume despite the fact that it was a corset.

They called her the sparkling diamond and she was the star. From the first time I saw her perform, I knew she had changed. But for the better. The attention she received from all the men. The confidence she radiated from the stage. This was the way I had always seen her. During her school years she had been shy, reserved. Lily went unnoticed by most, but I, I had always seen her as a star. She was the star of the Moulin Rouge and the star of all of my dreams.

The woman I loved is…I must pause here to gather myself. Tears have blinded me and I can only hope that I am still typing correctly. My hands automatically cradle my rough, bearded face, as they always do when the pain of thinking about her flares up.

The woman I loved is…dead.

I first came to Paris, one year ago. It was 1899, the summer of love. Everything seemed so bright here, compared to now when all is dark, that day I stepped off of the train. I had only my suitcase and a desire to find more in life with me as I arrived.

I knew nothing of the Moulin Rouge, Peter Pettigrew, or Lily. I hadn't thought, in my wildest dreams that I might end up seeing her once again. She was a love that I had put behind me many months before. It had seemed to hopeless after losing contact with her when we graduated. No, it was most unexpected.

The world had been swept up in a bohemian revolution and I had traveled from London to be a part of it.

My hands itched to write, my voice was barely held back in my throat. Dreamy ideals floated through my mind the day long. I had an imagine of a perfect world dancing in my head and it seemed to me that Paris was the place to try and make my dreams a reality.

On a hill near Paris, was the village of Montmarte. It was not as my father had said, "a village of sin." Here I cannot help the image of my father in my head. His stark white hair and beard framing his eyes. Those eyes were always empty. Void of emotion. But his voice…It always managed to express his anger to me. There was never a time when he wasn't disappointed with me. I was not surprise to here his scruffy voice declaring the Montmarte was not where I should be going in life. His scolding did nothing to stop my leaving, though I'm not sure he had really cared either way.

It was the center of the bohemian world. As soon as I saw the modest arch above the street, with the people smiling at me, dancing merrily and seeming to be utterly free, I had known that I had come to the right place. Here was the place where I would find just what I was looking for.

Musicians. Painters. Writers. They were known as the children of the revolution. And I desperately wanted to join them. To further the revolution for the good of the world.

Yes, I had come to live a penniless existence. The small simplicity of my flat amazed me. I didn't have to worry about material possessions. I didn't have to be bothered by the distractions of a big home. Just my bed, a quaint little chair, and my desk with my typewriter on top was everything I needed in the world.

I had come to write about truth, beauty, freedom, and that which I believed in above all things, love. But there was one problem…