~To Kill You With A Kiss~
Chapter 23
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Author's Note: Thank you for all the reviews and comments! Yes, this is the chapter where Professor Beery's dreaded pantomime is performed for the first and last time. This will be the last frivolous chapter in this story - I promise! The rest of the story will deal with more serious issues, such as time, destiny, murder, and seduction.
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Wizarding Nerd Note: Observant readers may wonder how Bertie Botts could be a first year student in 1945 when his Famous Wizard card clearly tells us that he was born in 1935, and thus would have been only 10 years old when this story takes place. In response, I can only state that the Famous Wizard cards are notoriously unreliable sources of information; we learn from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, for example, that the young Dumbledore corresponded with Adalbert Waffling in the 1890s, even though the Famous Wizard card gives Waffling's birth date as 1899.
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"Where in Merlin's name is Abraxas Malfoy?" Professor Beery was growing quite agitated. It was almost time for the pantomime to begin, but Amata's faithless lover was nowhere to be seen.
"I think he is still playing Quidditch, sir," said Augusta Moon cheerfully. She peeked out through the velvet curtain that separated the stage from the audience. "Oh, look, there are hundreds of people out there! Almost all the students must be here, and the teachers as well. This will be so much fun!"
"Quidditch? How could he be playing Quidditch now? It's dark out already! And he's supposed to be the faithless lover!" Beery's voice rose to an indignant squeak. "Of all the fickle, irresponsible..."
"Faithless?" interjected Tom with a slight smile. "That's Abraxas for you, Professor Beery. We are going to need his understudy to step in, I'm afraid. Mr. Sanguini, do you know all the lines?"
The handsome young vampire nodded gravely. "Of course, Professor Riddle. I take my assigned role very seriously."
"Good, good." Professor Beery gave Sanguini a flustered little nod. "Er... Could you try to look a little more fickle? A little less brooding?"
"Fickle?" Sabino Sanguini was clearly not familiar with the word.
"More like a flighty Casanova, seducing one young lady after another and leaving them all broken-hearted. You character does after all abandon the lovely Amata very cruelly."
"Yes, I see." Sanguini pondered this for a moment. "Pardon me, Professor Beery, but I find that part very difficult to comprehend. My character loves Miss Amata, yes?"
"Yes, of course. But then he abandons her because he has fallen in love with another young lady instead." Professor Beery glanced through the script. "House-elves, will you please assume your positions for the opening dance?"
"I beg your pardon, Professor, but I do not understand how that is possible."
Beery looked bewildered. "You do not understand how what is possible, Mr. Sanguini?"
The pale vampire shook his head. "I do not understand how my character can love Miss Amata and then just... stop. Just like that. Surely love, the noblest and most eternal of emotions, cannot simply cease, from one moment to the next."
Beery sighed deeply. "This is no time for reflections on the nature of love, Mr. Sanguini. The part is simply written this way. You will just have to do your best."
"Yes, sir. Of course, sir." Sanguini leafed through the script again, shaking his head slightly.
"Miss Rosier! What is Merlin's name are you wearing?" Professor Beery had just caught sight of Druella Rosier. "That is not a rag."
Harry looked at Druella and tried not to laugh. "Not a rag" was an understatement; Druella was wearing a low-cut black satin dress that showed off her slim figure to perfection. The material itself was slightly sparkly, and it contrasted beautifully with her alabaster skin.
"That is a very lovely dress," said Sanguini hoarsely.
Professor Beery tugged at his beard. "But... but Altheda is supposed to be poor. Destitute, in fact. Destitute ladies do not wear dresses like that, my dear."
"Oh, come now, Professor. You cannot expect me to wear rags in front of a distinguished guest like Mr. Gaunt," said Druella softly. "Has he arrived yet?" She peeked through the curtain. "Yes, there he is, in the second row, next to Alphard. I wonder why there is an empty seat on the other side of Alphard?"
Harry smiled to himself. Hello, Ginny... Welcome to 1945. Enjoying your date with Alphard?
"And there is Cygnus too." Eileen Prince glanced quickly through the curtain as well. "Your boyfriend," she added, with a cold glance at Druella. Eileen was also wearing a low-cut gown, but hers was made of wine-red velvet. Harry had never thought of Eileen as particularly pretty - her pale skin and dark hair reminded him too much of her unborn son Severus Snape - but he had to admit that the dress was rather flattering.
"Now, why are you dressed up this evening, Miss Prince?" Beery sounded completely baffled.
Eileen turned and smiled at him. "Why, as the understudy for the part of Amata, I need to be ready, professor. Just in case anything happens to Araminta."
Professor Beery beamed at her. "Ah, good thinking, my dear. Now, speaking of understudies, where did Mr. Lupin go?"
"Oh, I think he's playing Quidditch in the dark, too," said Augusta Moon serenely.
"Oh!" breathed Eileen. "Mr. Gaunt is looking this way!"
Harry peeked through the curtain. Yes, there was Voldemort, pale and dark-clad as always, glancing up at the stage with a slight smile. And there in the back was Horace Slughorn, looking around rather nervously. Too late - the headmaster had already spotted him. Armando Dippet beamed happily and made a beeline for the plump potions master, who darted quickly from the room.
"Poor Dippet! Completely smitten with Horace! Well, rather him than me," muttered Tom by Harry's side.
"Actors, are you all ready?" Beery drew his breath deeply. "Here we go then. Break a leg, everyone!"
The curtains parted to reveal a wild and rugged landscape. An enchanted twilight added a soft glow to the scene. A flock of green-clad house-elves fluttered across the stage, giggling as they performed a complicated dance of some sort. Three female figures stood on the stage, a few feet apart: Asha, Altheda, and Amata. Amata was held tenderly in her lover's embrace. Asha - the curly-haired Augusta Moon - was the first to speak. She complained bitterly of her plight; she was stricken by a malady that no magic could cure. She raised her eyes pleadingly to heaven, sighed deeply and vomited into one of the little green bushes Dumbledore had transfigured for the play. "Where shall I find a cure?" moaned Asha between bouts of retching.
Scattered giggles were heard from the audience, and off-stage, Beery was groaning and covering his eyes. "I told her not to do any vomiting charms."
"Can anything restore my health?" gasped Asha. Bright green boils began to appear on her face and arms. Suddenly, a blood-red liquid began to squirt merrily from her head, and it splashed to the ground where it formed a small puddle.
"Wicked!" A small boy called out from the audience, and general laughter followed.
Tom, who was standing next to Harry in the wings, whispered: "Ah, I think Augusta has outdone herself this time! What, is Beery crying already?"
"Yes, I think so," whispered Harry back.
"I," said Altheda - Druella Rosier- firmly, "have been robbed and left destitute. I am oppressed by my poverty, and I can find no solace for my plight." The enchanted stage lights made the fabric of Druella's dress shimmer beautifully, and a confused murmur ran through the audience.
Amata's faithless lover, the dark Sanguini, played his part rather well, Harry thought. Sanguini, who had been clasping Araminta in his arms and muttering declarations of love, glanced over at Druella's white neck. Suddenly, he let Araminta go and rushed over to Druella, pressing a kiss against her alabaster throat before disappearing off stage. "I am abandoned by my lover," said Araminta coldly, rolling her eyes. "What could possibly cure my heartache?"
Together, the three ladies determined to go in search of the fabled Fountain of Fair Fortune, and the chorus chimed in with a few cheerful songs to help them on their way. The landscape flickered and changed; a tall garden wall covered in green creepers came into view.
"Your turn, Harry!" whispered Tom. Harry adjusted his cloak wearily, stepped out onto the stage and greeted the three ladies.
"I think the Fountain on Fair Fortune is on the other side of that wall," coughed Asha weakly. The next instant, one of the enchanted green creepers shot out and lifted the still vomiting Asha up in the air. Asha grabbed Altheda's hand, and Altheda reached for Amata. But Amata got tangled in Sir Luckless' cloak, and all four of them were hoisted high up over the wall. More creeping vines reached for them, and they were all lifted over the wall, to great applause from the audience. Augusta, Druella, and Harry scrambled to their feet, ready for the next change of scenery. But Araminta seemed to be stuck in the vines. She struggled furiously to free herself from the clinging creepers, but the more she struggled, the worse things seemed to get.
"Help! Help!"
Beery stared wild-eyed at the screaming Araminta. "What is happening? Why can't she free herself from the vines?"
Tom lifted an eyebrow. "I think that particular vine is a little different from the others, Professor. Devil's snare, if I'm not mistaken." He glanced sternly at Eileen Prince, who smiled innocently back.
"What?" croaked Beery. "Lu-Lumos..." As the sudden flash of light illuminated the stage, the vines dropped the choking Araminta with a sickening thud. Beery stared at the half-strangled, sobbing girl. "Now, how did that happen?"
"It's all right, professor." Eileen appeared at his side. "I can take over the role so poor Araminta can recover."
"Can you?" Beery glanced uncertainly at her. "Yes, yes, I suppose you'd better..."
Harry, Augusta, Druella, and Eileen walked quickly out onto the stage. Eileen turned to Harry. "Noble knight, will you join us on our quest?"
"Er..." Harry had a vague idea that he was supposed to respond in the affirmative, but he could not recall his line.
I am unworthy of that honor, fair lady, whispered a soft voice in Harry's mind. Voldemort. Harry repeated the line dutifully: "I am unworthy of that honor, fair lady."
You look charming in that green cloak, my dear, continued the voice in his head. Speaking of cloaks - I recall an occasion when one of my female death eaters attempted to seduce me. She confessed that she had long harbored a desire for me to ravish her while still wearing my cloak. Now, out of curiosity: If I were ever to visit your bed, would you also prefer that I wear my cloak while ravishing you?
Harry flushed scarlet and looked at the ground.
"Oh, excellent acting!" whispered Beery offstage. "How does he manage to blush like that?"
Much to Harry's relief, the Great Worm made its entrance shortly thereafter. The audience gasped as the Great White Worm slithered onto the stage. The monstrous pale creature was almost the size of a basilisk, and Harry felt himself reaching automatically for the sword that hung by his side. But why was the Great Worm acting so strangely? Rather than merely block their path, as it was enchanted to do, the Worm inched closer and closer to Eileen Prince, squirming weirdly as it did so.
"H-how will we ever get past this monster?" said Harry weakly, looking wearily at the worm. In response, the Worm began to rub itself rather suggestively against Eileen's leg. The audience began to snicker.
I think the Worm is in love, said the amused voice in Harry's head. A touch of amortentia, perhaps? It appears that the fair Araminta got her revenge on Eileen.
Harry groaned. "What will it take to let us pass?" he sighed, looking at the Worm. The Worm, wrapping itself lovingly around Eileen, ignored him.
*Hey! I'm talking to you! Knock it off, will you!* hissed Harry in Parseltongue. The Worm appeared to waver for an instant, but finally released Eileen and assumed its proper position on stage.
"What will it take to let us pass?" muttered Harry through clenched teeth.
"Proof of your pain," moaned the Worm grudgingly.
"I'm in pain, all right," muttered Eileen. "And so will Araminta be, when I get my hands on her."
"You want proof of my pain?" Augusta Moon began to cry copiously. Her bright, unnaturally large tears splashed to the floor, and a few squirts of blood followed for good measure.
"You may pass."
It was only Harry's stern whisper in Parseltongue that stopped the Worm from kissing Eileen as they dashed past it. The Worm hurried after them off stage, where Tom promptly blew it up with a quick Confringo spell. A nasty burning smell hovered in the air for a few moments, causing the people in the front row to cough and grimace.
The stage was rapidly transformed into a steep, hilly landscape. Asha, Altheda, Amata and Sir Luckless tried repeatedly to climb the slope that rose before them, but they kept sliding back down the slick hill.
So smooth and moist... whispered the voice in Harry's mind. Harry glared at Voldemort, who was barely visible in the darkened hall. He was fairly certain that was not the right line.
What will it take to let us climb this slope? Tom's voice murmured in his mind. And stay out of Harry's mind, or this play will end with the tragic choking death of Mr. Gaunt.
"What will it take to let us climb this slope?" declaimed Harry.
"The fruits of your labors," said the slope in a deep mysterious voice. Suddenly, fruit started pelting down from the ceiling, and the audience started laughing uproariously.
"What's this?" cried Professor Beery in the wings. "Who did that?"
"Sorry Professor," whispered Augusta. "I thought it would be a nice touch. Here, I'll make it stop." She ducked a pineapple and muttered a quick charm.
The slope eventually accepted the perspiration from Altheda's brow as the fruits of their labors, and Druella was perspiring so much at this point that Augusta's sweat charm was rendered almost superfluous.
Finally, the four of them arrived at a bubbling stream, and Amata gracefully extracted a memory from her head with her wand in order to pay the required price of "a treasure of your past". Harry strongly suspected that the memory Eileen pulled from her head and dumped in the water with a shudder was the recollection of the Great Worm's amorous advances.
When they reached the bubbling Fountain of Fair Fortune, Asha sank to the ground, looking deathly ill. Augusta Moon spit a little extra blood and some bright green goo for good effect.
"Here," said Druella through gritted teeth and reached for a small bottle hidden at her bosom. "Perhaps this potion will revive you."
Augusta took a small sip from the bottle. Then her eyes widened. Suddenly, she flung her arms around Druella.
"What are you doing?" hissed Druella.
Augusta blinked slowly. "You know, I'm really not sure. But you are so terribly pretty, Druella. I wonder why I didn't notice that before. And your dress is so shiny, like a star..." She kissed Druella softly on the neck. The audience snickered.
Druella stared at the Gryffindor girl in horror. "Oh, Merlin, don't tell me I grabbed the wrong bottle... I think I'm going to throw up now."
"Do not touch Druella's neck!" Suddenly, Sanguini appeared out of nowhere, a look of dark fury on his handsome face. He pointed his wand at Augusta with a trembling hand.
Augusta seemed confused. "Why are you trembling? Are you getting sick? Here, have some of this potion; it's really good... I got it from this lovely celestial creature right here."
Harry groaned as Sanguini took a quick gulp of the potion. The vampire yanked Druella towards him and glared at Augusta, who glared right back at him. They both circled slowly around Druella, muttering things under their breaths. It was Augusta who struck the first blow, and soon a full-blown fistfight was underway. The chorus quickly drowned the noise from the fight in a lovely song about healing, and a few house-elves pirouetted by.
Eileen giggled slightly and raised her eyes to Harry. "It appears that we have come to the end of the journey, Sir Luckless."
Oh, Merlin, I hope so! thought Harry wearily. He reached for Eileen's hand.
I dreamed about you last night, Harry, said Voldemort's voice in his head. You were moaning in my arms.
It appears that we had the same dream, then, said another voice. No, wait - I wasn't dreaming...
Harry blushed again and cupped Eileen's pale face in his hands. Oh, Merlin, I'm about to kiss Snape's mother. Slowly, he touched his lips to hers, acutely conscious that both Tom and Voldemort were watching him in fascination now. The first soft touch was followed by a rush of sighs and whispers in his mind. Harry realized that both Tom and the Dark Lord found the kiss rather arousing, and he felt slightly dizzy. Without thinking, he deepened the kiss, and Eileen went strangely limp in his arms. It was only when Eileen began to whimper that he came to his senses and released her. Eileen stood rooted to the spot, gazing up at him with shining eyes.
The final curtain fell, and Beery rushed out on stage. "Magnificent acting, Elias! Truly magnificent. As for the rest of you..." He shuddered and buried his face in his hands.
Harry felt Tom touch his shoulder lightly. "You were wonderful, Elias! But I don't think that Professor Beery will be in a hurry to put on another pantomime after this."
"That was fantastic!" A small first-year boy had found his way up on stage. He was gazing up at Augusta Moon with adoration. "I wish I was as good at magic as you."
"Why, thank you, Bertie!" The bloodied and disheveled Augusta looked very pleased at the compliment. "Now, where did Druella go?"
"Oh, please! Augusta's magic was disgusting." Eileen wrinkled her nose.
The little boy beamed. "I know, right? I love disgusting things."
Eileen gave him a weary look. "We know that, Botts. We are all very tired of finding your revolting sticky sweets all over school. But Augusta's spells are even nastier than your candy could ever be."
"Really?" The boy appeared to ponder this for a moment. "Well, we'll see about that, Miss Prince." He walked away, grinning to himself.
"Ah, there you are, Herbert!" Dumbledore approached Beery, beaming. "That went rather well, don't you think? I must admit that I had initially assumed that a play based on a fairy tale might be a bit tedious, but it was far more amusing than I expected. I will write down the details of that performance for posterity, as I promised you."
Beery's eyes widened. "No... No, Albus. I think you had better... edit the details a little."
"Edit? As you wish." Dumbledore nodded pleasantly.
...
"That," said Ginny, "was a lovely play, Harry. I adored the final scene where you were making out with Snape's mother while Neville's grandmother was fighting the handsome vampire for Bellatrix' mum in the background."
Alphard squeezed her hand affectionately. "I told you it was worth coming to 1945 for."
The five of them were seated in front of the fireplace in Tom's study. My ex-girlfriend from the future, her lover, my lover, and my lover's future self. Harry was too tired to give much thought to how strange it was that they were all sitting here together.
Alphard and Ginny were holding hands, and Harry was leaning against Tom's shoulder. Voldemort was regarding them all with a little smile.
"So, let's see," muttered Harry sleepily. "There were seven vials of love potion. Lupin gave some to Abraxas, the headmaster drank Slughorn's potion, Araminta fed Eileen's to the Great Worm, and Sanguini and Augusta Moon shared Druella's. Oh, and Abraxas put some in my carrots. That makes five vials. I wonder what happened to the other two?"
Alphard flushed a little and pulled a vial from his pocket. "Well, it's probably not going to make much difference for us, Ginny, but I thought it would be interesting to try."
Ginny laughed and kissed him on the cheek. "That's so sweet of you, Alphard. Yes, let's try it! I wonder what happened to the seventh vial, though."
"And I wonder what happened to my carrots," mused Harry. "What do they do with leftovers after dinner? I hope they don't feed them to the owls or something, or Abraxas will have birds following him everywhere he goes..."
Ginny giggled. "That would be rather funny, wouldn't it?"
Tom smiled. "I think it would..." He kissed Harry softly on top of the head. "But now, we have more serious matters to attend to. Alphard, do you have the memory?"
Alphard nodded and produced another vial from his pocket, this one containing a silver mist. "This is Regulus' memory of his last meeting with Voldemort. Well, the last one before he was brutally murdered by the Dark Lord." His glance flickered uncertainly to Voldemort's dark form.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Harry?" Tom's voice was a whisper. "Perhaps I can enter the memory instead."
Harry shook his head. "No, Tom. It's got to be me. I'm the one who is destined to face the Dark Lord, remember?"
"He is right, Tom." Voldemort spoke softly. "This is the way it was meant to be." His dark grey eyes lingered on Harry's face. "You played your part well in the amusing little pantomime tonight, my dear. And you have played the part of Elias Black rather convincingly as well. But are you ready for your next role, in a far darker and more dangerous play? Are you ready to play the part of Regulus Black in front of an unsuspecting Dark Lord?"
Harry nodded. "I'm ready."