"Romeo Romeo, wherefore art..." Seamus suddenly dropped his script with a pitiful scowl. "This is stupid."
"Seamus," Hermione barked from the pit with her own much angrier scowl. "You are the only one complaining!"
"Can you blame me? I'm in a bloody dress!" The teen shouted furiously gesturing to his costume, a 14th-century pink smock encrusted with pearls and embroidery.
"So it Harry!" Hermione reminded him! The Irish teen turned to his fellow co-star who was struggling not to laugh in his smock, complete with ridiculous head covering and apron.
"This is stupid." He repeated.
"Hey!" Tracey barked. "We agreed after our production of the tale of the three brothers that we would do a traditional Shakespeare production. That means no actresses! So shut up and practice your lines! You're the only one who hasn't memorized them yet!" Seamus let out a pained sigh.
"How about we start from the top of the scene again?" Harry argued.
"Alright! Hannah! Susan! Can we get a scene reset please!"
"You got it!" Hannah shouted back before the dias on wheels that Harry and Seamus were standing on suddenly lurched forward, nearly pitching them into the ground.
"Left! Left!" Susan admonished.
"Sorry!" Hannah called back before the dias lurched back instead.
"Bloody hell are you trying to break our necks?!" Seamus complained.
"Shhh!" Hermione shouted before she waved a hand up to Parvati. With a wave of her wand, the light changed. Dean Thomas walked out onto stage, decked out in full costume, twirling a carnival mask in his hands.
"He jests at scars that never felt a wound."
Dean spoke with a trace of bitterness in his voice. Then a light shown for stage right. He turned to it eyes suddenly alright.
"But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.
Be not her maid since she is envious.
Her vestal livery is but sick and green,
And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off."
Suddenly the dias crept halfway into the stage, Seamus was standing by the railing, looking like he desperately wanted to be somewhere else, but still following the visual crews that Astoria Greengrass (one of the new Slytherin members of SCAM that Tracey had brought in, too much initial skepticism) was giving him. Hermione huffed but found herself uninclined to scold him since Juliet was supposed to be forlorn in that scene. Dean's began to beam, eyes alright with affection.
"It is my lady, O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!
She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks.
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp. Her eye in heaven
Would, through the airy region, stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand.
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!"
Dean had been creeping closer and closer to the dias as he spoke, despite the fact he was supposed to be stationary. Hermione scowled and wondered why Padma wasn't giving him his cue. Seamus was standing transfixed as Dean spoke, eyes wide and shining. As the black teen finished speaking all he could do was stare.
"Line!" Harry hissed
"Bloody hell," Seamus muttered back, which rose a laugh from the cast. Hermione opened her mouth to admonish him, but Dean suddenly grabbed the teen's hands and continued his speech. Only...
"He speaks!
O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,
As is a wingèd messenger of heaven
Unto the white upturnèd wond'ring eyes
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him
When he bestrides the lazy puffing clouds
And sails upon the bosom of the air."
Dean finished. The entire theatre was silent before suddenly Seamus flew out his hands, grabbed Dean's face and the two started snogging furiously over the dias railing. A whoop rose from the side as Ernie, Ron and Blaise Zabini all jumped from backstage, followed by Colin and Zacharias. Hermione sputtered and started laughing which finally startled the pair.
"What are you laughing at?!" Seamus demanded furiously despite his gasp.
"No wonder you haven't memorized your lines! I've had you practicing with Dean this whole time! Tell me, did you get anything done?"
"Shut up!" Seamus squeaked with a flushed face. Suddenly there was clapping from all of the girls in the crew as Pavarti changed the light to a spotlight on the pair. Now Dean was starting to get flustered as everyone shouted congratulations and praise. After a few minutes, Hermione cleared her throat with a sonorous.
"Alright alright!" She shouted, gaining everyone's attention back. "Let's try this again! Act 2, scene 2! From the top!"
Suddenly the door to the theatre opened, admitted Professor Vector and Professor Umbridge. The second the short pink-clad woman saw the stage she shrieked.
"Good Merlin! Those Boys Are In Dresses!"
"Yes," Septima said casually. "I told you. They're doing a traditional Shakespeare production."
"Traditional?! How on earth is that traditional?!" She demanded furiously.
"Well you see professor," Blaise said, stepping forward. "It's been recorded that muggles thought that acting was a very base profession. Something even lower than a beggar or even a lady of the night, as it were. No self-respecting woman would ever perform on a stage. So all of the female parts in Shakespeare and Marlowe's plays were written with actors in mind." The woman blinked.
"Mr. Zabini? I wasn't aware you were a member of this club."
"Miss. Davies invited me." Blaise said casually "and I must say, it's been quite enjoyable."
"Indeed," Umbridge replied. She looked around before she shook her head. "Nevertheless, I simply cannot allow this production to continue. It wouldn't do to expose young people to this sort of... behaviour."
"What's wrong with wearing a dress?" Seamus argued.
"Simply that you are a boy Mr. Fineggan! And you should dress like one!" Umbridge barked. Seamus scowled.
"But I like the dress!" He argued. Ron and Harry exchange a glance. Not twenty minutes ago the boy was raging against his costume.
"That's ridiculous Mr. Fineggan!" Delores barked. "Take it off at once!" The Irish teen looked at her with a scowl before he smiled.
"Okay." Then he reached his arms behind him undid the bow holding it up and let the dress fall, revealing his corset and stockings. Umbridge shrieked and covered her eyes.
"DETENTION YOU REVOLTING LITTLE BRAT!" she shrieked before she turned and ran from the theatre. Seamus then scooped up the dress to properly cover himself.
"Sorry Professor Vector." He said casually.
"Mr. Finnegan... that was excellent." She responded which rose a round of laughter and applause from his fellow students. "But also very foolish."
"Sorry professor," Seamus repeated, much more repentant this time.
"Also... no more traditional productions I'm afraid. And I think it would be better to do something with a little less... romance." Vector finished.
"Awwww..." the students chorused with a frown.
"But the romances are so fun!" Lucy cried with sad eyes.
"You'll be lucky if you haven't turned Delores off Shakespeare entirely," Septima argued. Hermione slumped.
"But... but this was nearly the end of dress rehearsals! You're saying we have to start all over again?!" She bemoaned. Septima gave her an apologetic pat on the shoulder.
"Dammit..." Seamus muttered sadly. "I was just getting into it." Then Dean leaned in and whispered something into the Irish boy's ear which made him go bright red, raising a laugh.
"I think it's a good change!" Astoria argued, "it didn't seem fair to have all the boys have all the fun!"
"You missed our last production," Lucy argued. "Lovegood played death. It was... awe-inspiring."
"And just a touch terrifying," Ron added with a snicker.
"Thank you!" Luna piped up from where she was wrapping up the curtain ropes. "That's a lovely compliment."
"Is it?" Ron questioned with a blink.
"Well isn't death supposed to be a little frightening? The unknown always is. But I'm sure once you get to know it, it won't be so bad. Like the youngest brother! He knew death well and wasn't afraid at all! Maybe death just seems frightening because you haven't tried to get to know it." Luna said airily. The trio were all staring at her with wide eyes. After a while, Lucy cleared her throat.
"Anyway! I'm sure whatever this next production will be, they'll be a lot more interesting roles to fill."
"We'll see." Astoria reasoned before she helped Lucy move the rest of the sets back away. Meanwhile, Hermione and Tracey had their heads together over a tome.
"No," Hermione said bitterly. "No."
"Too raunchy. Too graphic... ugh! Too short!" Tracey argued with a scoff of disgust.
"Too boring," Hermione muttered.
"What about the king collection?" Tracey offered. Hermione's eyes lit up and she ruffled through the book before she landed on one with a triumphant grin. Tracey blinked.
"Isn't that... but the main character is the villain!"
"It's a very compelling character! And has some of the best monologues that Shakespeare ever wrote!" Hermione argued. Tracye hummed before she shrugged.
"Alright... sound fun I suppose"
"You picked a new production already?" Harry asked.
"Everyone!" Hermione called, grabbing the attention of the whole club. "Our next production is going to be Richard the Third!"
"You weren't kidding," Harry muttered to Tracey as they walked down the halls together while Harry reviewed the translated script Hermione had drafted (after Seamus and Ron complained about their inability to understand the dodgy old English) "he really is a villain."
"You still want to audition?" Tracey asked.
"I do," Harry admitted. "I like acting. I never knew it until now, but it's a lot of fun. It's surprisingly comforting. It's like telling a story but using everything you... Lucy?" Harry stopped as he spotted something out of the corner of his eyes down a side hall. Sure enough when he turned back the little Hufflepuff was sitting in an alcove sniffling. "Lucy!" He cried in horror. "Are you okay?! What happened?!" Then he looked down and gasped. The poor girl's hands were covered in blisters, a sign of the curse of boils. His eyes grew dark. The upperclassman had been working on that in SCAM not a week before. "Who did this Lucy?" He demanded. The girl shook her head. "Hey," Harry said a little gentler. "Come on, you know you can tell me..." the girl looked him over, hesitated for a moment, before she took a deep breath.
"Zacharias..." she admitted. "He's always been a little cold, but lately..." she rubbed her face with the back of her hand. "He said... that I should keep my mouth shut...when I was defending you. He called you a liar." Lucy explained. Harry stood up.
"Tracey," he said darkly "take Lucy to the hospital wing." Then he turned on his heels and stalked back down the hall. Tracey blinked at his expression before she put her head down and scooped Lucy up.
"He is way too much like his dad sometimes." She muttered worriedly.
He marched down the hall with a purpose. His grim expression had everyone flattening themselves against the wall or turning down the hall to avoid it.
"Oh, Severus!" Minerva called from one hallway then blinked as the man marched by without turning his head. "What on earth..."
"Yes, Minerva?" Severus said, coming from the other end of the hall. The woman jumped and spun around.
"Oh! There you..." she looked down the wall. "I swear I just saw you marching by... hell on your heels."
"I was heading to tea with Emmeline," Severus insisted, gesturing behind him.
"Then who-" Minerva said with a blink.
"SMITH!" came a roar around the corner. Both teachers jumped and rushed around the corner with matching expressions of worry. They came around the corner just in time for Harry to land a wicked right hook straight into Smith's nose. The lanky blond dropped like a rock with a groan. Then Harry grabbed his collar with both hands and shook him. "Stay the fuck away from my little sister you bastard!"
"Enough!" Severus shouted angrily before he pulled Harry off the Hufflepuff. Smith fell to the floor again before scrambling to his feet and running away. Harry tried to run after him but Severus physically held him back. "That's enough!"
"What on earth was that about Mr. Potter?" Minerva demanded with pursed lips
"He deserved it!" Harry bellowed furiously as he tried to run past his father after the boy.
"I said that's enough," Severus repeated with a firm hand on his shoulder. Harry shrugged it off.
"What do you care?!" He snarled. "All you do is criticize anyway!"
"Harry, tell us what happened and we can settle this!" Severus growled in frustration. Harry had been so argumentative lately. Not only had he been skipping his occlumency lessons, but he, as well as his other professors, had noticed a marked lack of class participation. They all remarked that he seemed distant, and when he was singled out was prone to snarky retorts or biting comebacks.
"I don't need your help!" Harry snarled before he turned and prowled away, thankfully in the opposite direction than Smith.
"What on earth..." Minerva began worriedly before turning to Severus. "What has gotten into him lately?!" The potions master lifted and then let his arms fall in a silent show of bewildered defeat. Minerva took a deep, calming breath before she paused.
"You know," she began thoughtfully, giving Severus side eyes. "I seem to recall a certain tall black haired sullen boy in his fifth year-"
"Don't start." Severus bit back with a scoff.
"His professors were very concerned about him." Minerva continued anyway. "He'd withdrawn from everyone. Friendships fell away..." She gave him a meaningful look. "It took him years to recover." Severus gave her a withering look. "I often felt that his parents were to blame. They didn't seem to pay him enough attention." Minerva muttered bitterly
"It wasn't their fault!" Severus snarled, whirling on her. "And you have no right to say such things!" Minerva blinked in shock. "We didn't have much! Just each other! And that was enough!" Severus let his shoulders droop. "Until we didn't even have that anymore..." he said, trailing off. He looked over at his older colleague before he sighed. "My apologies Minerva I-"
"No." Minerva assented. "You're right... perhaps I was too quick to judge." She sighed. "It's just... well I remember Eileen from my days at Hogwarts. She was such a bright young woman. And so kind to us younger years. Even us Gryffs."
"She always was kind to the kids on our street," Severus recalled with an air of melancholy "especially the one who didn't have something to hold on to."
"She was a gentle soul. It doesn't surprise me that she would love strongly enough to leave everything she knew behind." Minerva paused. "You know... I always thought... well some of your professors, myself included... well we thought your father was a brute."
"What?" Severus said with a blink.
"Well, you always came back so gaunt and thin. We thought that maybe he was treating you and your mother poorly." Severus let out a bitter laugh.
"Oh no. We were all pretty gaunt after the mill closed. It was hard, but we got by. He never told mother but father took donations from our church every week when I was home. Just to put a little extra food on the table. It's like I said... we didn't have much. But we had each other... and it was enough."
"She sent me a letter," Minerva blurted out. "When she got her diagnosis... she had to explain it to me of course, and in all honesty... I still don't fully understand it..."
"Essentially, your body makes an error when trying to repair itself, and that error starts repeating itself over and over again until it forces your body to shut down," Severus said thickly. "It is more likely for an error to occur when the body is exposed to certain chemicals."
"It was the mill then? That's what caused it?"
"Mesothelioma." Severus clarified. "It's a form of cancer that attacks the lungs. Usually from inhalation of chemicals. Most of the men over fifty in cokeworth have it. Wives get it mostly from vicinity, though there is also a possible link to housekeeping. Specifically laundry. Cleaning the dirty soot and dust-covered clothes of their husbands leads to the same kind of inhalation after all." Severus looked skyward. "Most of my father's coworkers were already dead by the time my mother got her diagnosis. He was one of the lucky ones." He scoffed. "Though I don't know if I would call watching your wife slowly and painfully wasting away in front of you as 'lucky'."
"I know he took it hard..."
"We both did." Severus insisted. "I just... handled it differently than he did."
"You buried yourself in your work."
"I kept busy." Severus insisted with a sniff. "He's the one that turned to the bottle."
"But work becomes your own form of addiction," Minerva argued with knowing eyes. "Tell me... and be truthful... if your mother had still been alive would you have done the Christmas mission in 1979?" Minerva demanded. Severus felt his chest tighten then he scowled and looked away.
"A lot of things would have been different if she'd still been alive." was all he muttered before he turned to stomp away, back to his fiance and the peace. Minerva shot out a hand to stop him.
"Severus... when was the last time you spoke to your son outside of work?" she demanded. Severus opened his mouth and felt his words die. It had been some time. Probably too long... "talk to him. Not as a professor. As his father. He is still young. He still needs you. And you need him, whether you realize it or not." then she was gone. And to make sure he didn't try and make some kind of bitter comeback she changed into a cat mid-stride and loped away gracefully. Severus was left alone and frustrated in the corridor, uncertain of where he should go first.
That question was answered for him when he arrived at his quarters and found Emmeline consoling Lucy while Tracey hovered off to the side awkwardly.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Zacharias Smith," Tracey responded coldly. Severus let his eyes drift closed. That explained quite a bit. He came to the couch and came and knelt in front of the 11-year-old girl.
"What happened my dear," he asked her, gently as he could. The girl sniffed quietly.
"He got mad, 'cause I told him that Harry wasn't lying." the girl sniffed and rubbed her face with one of Emmeline's handkerchiefs. The man took a deep breath to regulate his temper.
"How long has this been happening?" he asked then reached out to grab her hand as she tried to twist her jumper into knots. She took a deep breath.
"For a while," she admitted quietly. "The first week was fine. I made a few friends and everything was okay. But then we started the acting club and Zacharias joined. He started to get really nasty. Calling Harry a liar and making fun of him for no reason. I tried to make him stop, but he just turned around and started bad-mouthing me instead. Call me a crybaby and a teacher's pet, stuff like that. At first, the other first years were on my side and would tell him off when he was being mean. But they stopped talking to me after a while. I think Zacharias was threatening them for helping me. Yesterday he was going on about how Harry only got everything he wanted cause he was famous, and how he wasn't actually good at anything," the girl was shaking now, her face and tears turning from sorrow to fury. "I was so mad! So I... well I got some help from some upperclassman. It was just a simple prank. We made it so that everything he touched turned pink. Just the common room. Silly really..." Lucy admitted with a sniff.
Severus couldn't help his slight smile. For all that Smith had been cruel to her, forcing her into isolation and belittling her, she hadn't conceived of a revenge worse than minor schoolyard shenanigans. It was proof positive of her gentle and kind nature. "But Zacharias was so angry. He started screaming about how he would hex whoever had done it. And I guess he got it out of one of the upperclassmen 'cause he came and found me during lunch today..." she trailed off looking away from him with a faint blush. Likely shame, though she didn't have any reason to feel any.
"What did he do?" Severus asked, a little louder expecting an answer from one of the other people in the room.
"Looked like a curse of boils," Tracey responded candidly. "We were working on it last week for our dress rehearsal of Romeo and Juliet. For the scene with the plague village."
"Clever," Severus drawled with a grumble. "I take it you were practicing how to keep your victims from experiencing pain?"
"I thought Umbridge banned all casting of defensive spells,'' Emmeline said with narrowed eyes.
"We're not using them in a defensive setting," Tracey replied with almost rehearsed ease. Both parents looked grim. Then Severus sighed.
"I will talk with Smith," he declared to Lucy. "What he did was truly abhorrent. No one should have gone through this. Such acts of bullying are expressly forbidden at Hogwarts and I will not allow it to continue." he rose to his full height and turned from the room. Then he paused.
"Miss Davies, please make sure that Lucy makes it back to Hufflepuff common room tonight. Before curfew."
"Yes sir." the girl agreed with a bow of her head. Severus nodded in thanks before he turned and left the apartments on the hunt for a certain lanky blond teenager.
The pair of them would be having... words.
"Is this really necessary?" Septima asked casually as she sat on the bench that Tracey and Hermione set up in front of the stage.
"Yes," Tracey insisted.
"We know how good everyone here is. You can be impartial. Not-" Hermione began quickly. "That you haven't been supervising, but you don't stay for every rehearsal."
"Very well. What are the auditions today?"
"The titular Richard, Queen Margaret and Queen Elanor" Tracey read. "We're starting with Richard... Corner, Micheal!" She beckoned. The tall ravenclaw strutted out with a smirk.
"Act 1, scene 1, opening soliloquy, if you please," Hermione said plainly. Micheal smirked before he took a deep breath.
"Now the winter of our troubles has been transformed into glorious summer by the ascension of my brother, King Edward IV, son of the house of York!"
Micheal recited passionately, with a bright smile. Hermione flinched while Tracey raised an eyebrow.
"All the clouds that had descended over our family have now been banished and returned to the sea! Now we wear wreaths of victory on our foreheads, and -"
"Next!" Septima cried in disgust. Micheal blinked and visibly deflated before walking off the stage. Hermione sucked in a breath.
"Erm - professor - we try to be a little more... delicate when we tell people to stop."
"Why?" Septima demanded with a frown.
"Well it spares their feelings," Hermione offered with a sad expression.
Septima frowned before Blaise strutted on stage.
"Shall I begin?" He asked cockily.
"Just get on with it, zabini." Tracey barked in irritation.
The lanky teen took a deep breath.
"Now the winter of our troubles has been transformed into glorious summer by the ascension of my brother, King Edward IV, son of the house of York. All the clouds that had descended over our family have now been banished and returned to the sea. Now we wear wreaths of victory on our foreheads, and we've hung up our armour as decoration. We've exchanged the sound of our battle trumpets for the sound of joyful greetings, and our death marches have become stately dances."
Blaise's delivery was much better. He stood with an air about him like he was demanding respect. But there was a coldness to his voice that made Hermione shudder.
"That will be all Mr. Zabini," Septima said as the boy began the rest of the soliloquy. As he walked off she adjusted herself. "He... was exceptional. A strong candidate."
"We have a couple more-" Tracey said.
"Smith and Ernie backed out this morning actually," Hermione admitted. "Smith... didn't give a reason." She finished after a beat with a pointed look, but both knew it was related to the... incident, just yesterday. "And Ernie said he read the script a bit more and didn't think he had the chops."
"So who is left?" Septima asked. That's when Harry walked onto the stage. "Mr. Potter? These are the auditions for the part of Richard. The auditions for Clarence are later.
"Ooh, pick Neville!" Harry cried with a grin. "He's a whippet, don't let him tell you otherwise."
"Whenever you're ready!" Hermione called with a grin. Harry nodded then closed his eyes and took a deep breath and removed his glasses. When he opened them Septima sucked in a breath.
The boy looked just like his father.
True the nose was less hooked and the face a little less world-weary. But his eyes had taken on the same haunted lustre, for all their verdant hue. And the way he held himself. She'd always said that Severus stood like a pureblood. Right now Harry stood like a prince. Why his great grandfather, who Septima remembered and loathed well, would be proud of his stance if nothing else. Then he drew a breath.
"Now the winter of our troubles has been transformed into glorious summer by the ascension of my brother, King Edward IV, son of the house of York."
Harry said. Though spat would be more accurate. He'd delivered the line with a very Snape-like sneer, complete with disdainful brow.
"All the clouds that had descended over our family have now been banished and returned to the sea. Now we wear wreaths of victory on our foreheads, and we've hung up our armour as decoration. We've exchanged the sound of our battle trumpets for the sound of joyful greetings, and our death marches have become stately dances."
He ended that last line with a scoff in his throat, casting his eyes to the sky as if looking up at an opulent ceiling with disgust at the excess.
"The grim, warlike expressions on our faces have smoothed. And instead of charging on armoured horses to frighten our opponents, we now dance in ladies' chambers to seductive songs on the lute."
The next line was mocking. He even did a little half bow, making sure to lean, ever so slightly to one side, mimicking a limp. When he straightened all signs of mirth had vanished from his face, replaced only with cold bitter anger.
"But as for me, I am not made for such games of love, or to admire myself in a mirror. I was badly made, and I lack the good looks to strut in front of passing girls. Nature has cheated me out of handsome features and proper proportions. I was born deformed, unfinished, and premature. I was barely half-created when I came into the world, and left so lame and misshapen that dogs bark at me as I limp past them"
he was staring at the floor now, the bitter rage tracing even more familiar lines onto his face. For but a moment Septima was sure that it really was Severus on the stage, though Potter's voice was less baritone than his father's. She wondered in passing if that might one day change.
"In such delicate times of peace, I have nothing to do."
She was startled then because Potter delivered that line with a trace of boredom. As if the thought of peace filled him with minor dread. She felt her soul shudder.
"No joys help me pass the time, unless I want to see my own shadow in the sun and make speeches about my deformity."
He paused and slowly a sinister smile crept onto his face, the kind that Septima had seen but once before when Severus was describing a particularly brutal poison to one of the wretched students from two years ago who had tried to murder him. Now her heart was pounding in her chest in fear.
"Therefore, since I cannot amuse myself by being a lover during these peaceful days, I am determined to become a villain."
Harry finished this with a truly Slytherin-worthy smirk. After just a few moments, in which he let the line sink in, he straightened up and put his glasses back on. The theatre was silent. Hermione had gone slack-jawed at some point during the performance and Tracey was staring at Harry with awed eyes. After a moment Septima cleared her throat.
"Can you see without your glasses, Mr. Potter?"
"Yeah," Harry assured her. "I mostly keep them out of habit now."
"Good. You'll need to keep them off when you perform."
"Er... usually Hermione waist to list the whole cast before she decides who-"
"Nonsense." Septima insisted. "You are Richard the Third. You have more lines to memorize than anyone. Best to start now."
"Right... great!" Harry finished as he realized the full implications of what she said. "Fantastic!"
"Get to it, Mr. Potter!"