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Theatre ch.5
🕑 Added 2024-06-02 22:10:55 +0000 UTCNarcissa didn't say anything to Harry, even when they got back into her car. She pulled out of the theater's driveway with aggressive turns, reminding him of her reaction after they had left Dr. Apolline's office.
"stepmom," he said. "What was that about?" She sighed and tapped her finger on the steering wheel, then looked at him.
"I'm sorry, honey," she said. "Even though we were stepsisters, Bellatrix and I never got along very well."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"It's been at least... ten years since then," he said, significantly lowering his estimate, not wanting to upset his stepmom further by making her feel old. "I'd think that was enough time for you two to cool off."
"It's complicated," his stepmom said.
"How so?"
"I'd rather not get into it," she said.
Harry felt a slight twinge of frustration at the back of his neck.
"No offense, stepmom, but that's not fair," he said. "Whatever is going on between you two is now my problem, considering I'm auditioning, and she's the director."
"Well, she seemed to like you well enough," she said with a slightly sarcastic tone.
"stepmom, come on."
Narcissa sighed. She pulled into their driveway but didn't get out of the car immediately. Harry waited until she slowly looked up and met his gaze.
"We were rivals," stepmother said. "When it came to grades, theater productions, and even... boys."
"Oh," Harry said.
"I don't know if I ever told you, but your father and I attended Hogwarts at the same time. We dated for a while. And Bellatrix..."
Harry blinked, realizing what she was implying. "Seriously?"
"It was a huge scandal," his stepmom said. "It went on for weeks, maybe even months, without my knowing. I broke up with your father when I found out."
"I'm guessing you eventually got back together," Harry said.
"Of course," Narcissa replied. "But just because I forgave your father doesn't mean I forgave or will ever forgive her."
Harry nodded and said nothing. His stepmom looked at him with a frustrated expression, and he could understand what she meant.
"Look, I wasn't sure about this theater thing at first," he said. "But now... I think it's a good idea. I want to audition and be in the play if I get a role."
"I know, honey," his stepmom said. "I don't like Bellatrix, but I'll keep my grievances to myself. You deserve to make your own decision on this."
"Thanks." Harry pondered for a moment, then looked at her again as she opened the car door. "You know, you should consider trying for a role yourself. I get that Bellatrix isn't your favorite person, but it seems like you once had a talent for theater."
His stepmother gave him a sweet smile.
"Thanks for saying that, honey," she said. "But I think I'd rather help you with your lines."
Harry leafed through the script pages and followed her inside. As Bellatrix had mentioned, comments were scribbled in the margins, various types of stage direction notes were drawn in the blank sections, and entire lines were crossed out in some places. He wondered why she gave it to him instead of logically finding him a clean copy.
A familiar feeling settled on his shoulders as he took off his shoes in the living room. It took him a few seconds to realize what it was. He was used to the home being a safe place and the outside world being a threat. This was the first time in many days that he had been active without the persistent anxiety. It felt good, but also somewhat terrifying.
Part of him wanted to go upstairs, turn on his computer, and start a game. It was a bigger part of him than he could admit without feeling ashamed, and Harry stood at the base of the stairs for a few seconds, motionless.
"Hey." His stepmom walked up to him and placed her hands on his shoulders, gently massaging and standing close enough that the tips of her breasts pressed against his back. "You look a little tense."
Harry took a deep breath and slowly turned around. He met his stepmom's gaze, then leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek. She smiled and let out a satisfied squeak.
"Thanks, stepmom," he said. "That was a huge help."
"You don't have to tell me," she said. "It's been many days since I've seen you like this, Harry."
She cupped his cheek and slowly rubbed his neck with her fingers.
"I don't want to see you shutting yourself in your room," she said. "Not now."
"I won't." Harry felt his fingers tighten around the script in his hand. "Actually, I think I'll practice my lines in the kitchen."
"Do you even know what role you're auditioning for?"
"I don't even know the title of the play," Harry said. "Bellatrix was too busy getting under your skin to give me any details."
His stepmother mimicked a sarcastic grimace and started walking towards the stove.
"Well, I don't mind," she said. "There is one more thing we should talk about."
"Anything."
Narcissa nodded slowly. She turned away from him and began pulling sandwich materials from the fridge. Harry had a distinct impression that she was taking her time, carefully choosing her words.
"Your treatment today," she said. "I was torn when Dr. Apolline told me about it, but..."
Harry winced. He hadn't forgotten about it, but the excitement of meeting Bellatrix and thinking about the play had pushed the experience to the back of his mind. However, talking about it with his stepmom was the last thing he wanted to do, at least at that moment.
"Harry," she said. "I see a difference in you. You've become more like your old self, your old self in a new, fully developed body. It helped you, honey."
Harry tapped the table, feeling a slight unease that had nothing to do with his depression.
"I think so too," he said quietly. "Really."
"You're on the verge of a breakthrough," Narcissa said. "And more importantly, maintaining it."
"Do you think we should schedule another session?" he asked.
"Well..." Narcissa hesitated, holding a head of lettuce in one hand and a jar of mayonnaise in the other. "That's part of what I talked about with Dr. Apolline."
Harry watched her for a moment, waiting for her to continue. When it became clear she needed at least a second or two to gather her thoughts, he glanced down at the script. The play had a tender title, "Romeo Unchained (working title)." He began to open the first page just as his stepmom sat down next to him.
"Honey," she said. "Dr. Apolline thinks you'll need this treatment as a regular part of your life."
She reached out and placed her hand on Harry's thigh. His entire body tensed, and he became acutely aware of his stepmom's feminine presence.
"Yes," he said. "She told me that too." "I think... Narcissa's hand moved further along his thigh. "Well..."
She hesitated and took a deep breath.
"I think you should keep your eyes wide open for girls your age at the audition tomorrow," she said after a moment's thought. She also withdrew her hand, causing a wave of mixed emotions to flood Harry's chest.
"Ask one out on a date?" he asked. "Exactly!"
"And what if I don't find anyone?"
Their eyes met briefly. Long enough to make the room feel like the backseat of a borrowed car.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," she said.
She stood up and cleared her throat, busying herself with the sandwiches. Harry closed his eyes for a moment, then opened the script.
—
Harry spent most of the next day reading the script and contemplating which role among the various characters in the play suited him best. "Romeo Unchained" was a reimagining of Shakespeare's classic story, set in modern times and only slightly reminiscent of its Renaissance counterpart.
Eventually, he ran out of energy and retired for the night. He fell into a deep, easy sleep without even trying, something he hadn't done in longer than he could remember.
And yet, when Harry woke up the next morning, he felt exhausted. Getting up required much more energy than he remembered. His mind was foggy and clouded.
He spent several long minutes staring at the TV. The idea of playing a game had never been more appealing than at that moment. On the other hand, the idea of going outside was terrifying.
"Harry?" His stepmother's soft voice called from the hallway. "Are you up?"
"Yes," he answered. "Yes."
"You should start getting ready. Auditions start in just over an hour."
Harry closed his eyes and fell back onto the bed. The idea of going on stage and even attempting to act felt foreign and frightening, as if someone else had committed him to this task.
He tried to push these thoughts from his mind and slowly began to get ready. He knew he couldn't back out now, not after everything he went through yesterday. Harry wanted to break out of the cycle he was stuck in, and the only way to do that was through decisive action.
He finished dressing and stepped into the hallway, immediately realizing that decisive action was something that sounded much easier in his head than in his body. The sun streaming through the living room window was too bright. The noise of cheerful birds, morning joggers, and passing cars sounded like a chaotic choir.
"Harry?" His stepmother was wearing a thin nightgown and frowned when she saw him. "Are you okay?" She stepped out of the kitchen and walked toward him, her bare feet making soft sounds on the floor. The nightgown was worn and almost translucent from countless wash cycles. Harry could see the outline of her breasts beneath it and two small, peaked centers that could only be one thing. "I'm fine," he managed to mumble. "Just tired." "Oh, honey." Narcissa reached out and hugged her son. Harry felt his entire body respond as he stepped into her embrace. She was soft, and her body was the epitome of femininity distilled to perfection. He felt his entire nervous system react, pleasure coursing through him, blood rushing to certain places.
"Do you want to sit down, have breakfast before you leave?" she whispered, her breath igniting his ear. "Maybe go over your lines one more time, with me as your partner?"
Harry pulled away abruptly, feeling incredibly embarrassed that he was on the verge of an erection just from the proximity of his stepmother. He blushed and shook his head.
"No!" he said a bit too forcefully. "I mean, I should probably go now."
He started walking toward the door. "Wait, don't you want me to drive you?" his stepmom asked.
"I'll walk," Harry said. "The fresh air will do me good."
By the time he finished his sentence, he was already halfway to the front door. Closing it behind him, Harry took a deep, calming breath and tried to push the unwanted feelings from his mind. It was morning, and he was moody and hyperreactive. That explained his reaction to waking up. It also explained his reaction to stepmother earlier.
However, it did not explain why the outside world still felt overwhelming, even after a few minutes of walking. Harry's heart beat to the rhythm of fight or flight every time he passed someone on the street. A man nodding and waving hello from his porch was almost enough to make him bolt.
It was an irrational, silly, and overblown reaction, and Harry knew it deep down. That didn't change the fact that his body and mind were still imposing it on him. It was as if some presence traveled with him in the back of his mind, pulling invisible emotional strings and eliciting nervous reactions. It was as if he suffered from an untreated illness, and the more Harry thought about it, the more he knew it was true.
Reaching the Godric's Hollow Players' theater was definitely the hardest part. Other actors milled about outside the building, chatting with each other and waiting for Bellatrix to arrive. Harry couldn't bring himself to join them. Instead, he walked past the building and then circled it for about ten minutes. By the time he returned, everyone had already gone inside, and after taking a breath that did nothing to calm him, he forced his legs forward.
I need to relax, he thought. When I get on stage, everything will be fine, he told himself. Harry was auditioning for a male role. That meant he would be reading lines for whatever part Bellatrix assigned him. He still held the script she had given them, and as he took a seat at the back of the dimly lit auditorium, he nervously flipped through it.
Almost immediately, a hand settled on his shoulder. Harry nearly jumped out of his seat.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Bellatrix said. "I must have snuck up on you."
She smiled at him, then leaned closer, bringing her face near his.
"I've already spoken with most of the other people auditioning," she said. "Would you like to go early or towards the end?"
"I... well..." Harry felt like a stammering fool. Bellatrix smiled knowingly and patted him on the shoulder again.
"I'll bring you up as soon as I finish with the people on stage," she said. "Auditions are the worst stage fright."
She disappeared into the darkened passage, and Harry took a few more slow, deep, completely ineffective breaths. He closed the script and spent a minute thinking about the play and which role would be best for him.
*Romeo Unchained* is the story of Romeo Montague, a top-tier actor living in modern-day London, who falls in love with Juliet Capulet, a beautiful and incredibly expensive escort. Along with his friends, Romeo spends most of the play trying to track her down and create situations where they can be together. Just like in the original, after murdering a brothel bouncer and an overly ambitious paparazzo, Romeo and Juliet are shot in a police shootout.
"Harry?" Bellatrix called. "Harry Potter, we're ready for you on stage."
Harry stood up abruptly. He began walking down the aisle slowly, feeling as though each step was leading him to his funeral rather than something he desired. He walked through the side passage leading to the stage and then stepped onto it, staring into the stage lights like a deer caught in headlights.
"Do you have a role in mind for yourself, Harry?" Bellatrix asked.
"Uh..." His mind went completely blank, and he tried to hide it by shaking his head vigorously.
"It's okay, no problem," Bellatrix said. "Let's try you as Emanuel, the man who brings Juliet back to the brothel after her illicit meeting with Romeo."
Harry nodded slowly. He still held the script in his hands. Reading from it was fine, but he couldn't remember what page the scene was on. Moreover, he could barely breathe.
A smiling girl walked onto the stage. She was about his age, with fiery red hair, a pretty face, and freckles. Harry opened his mouth to greet her, but nothing came out.
"Harry?" Bellatrix asked. "Is everything alright?"
"Your face..." Harry said. "I've seen you before."
That was one of Romeo's lines, not the one he was supposed to say. The girl giggled and stepped closer to him.
"I think you meant to say: 'What the hell are you doing here'?" She stared at him.
"Uh... yes," he said. The girl frowned at him and looked into the darkness of the audience, at Bellatrix. After a second, she turned back to Harry.
"This is not the life I want to lead any longer!" the girl shouted, her words delivered with perfect conviction. "I am my own person, and I refuse to be bought and sold."
Harry stared at her. He couldn't recall the line and knew no amount of thinking would bring it to his lips. Opening the script and searching through it was his only option.
He tugged at the first page a bit too vigorously and felt it tear with a loud rip. The girl across from him tried not to laugh. Harry cringed internally, feeling anxiety and a racing heartbeat paralyze him as if someone had cut out his tongue. He fumbled with the pages, blushing furiously.
"Uh... uh..." He stopped on one page, hoping it was the right one. "You don't get to decide that!" The girl sighed.
"That's not the correct line," she said. "I'm sorry, Bellatrix, but I can't even work around this."
"Take a break, Ally," Bellatrix called. "You too, Harry. Actually, come talk to me for a moment."
Harry walked through the stage wing doors that led to the audience. His legs carried him up the aisle, faster and faster. He didn't stop as he passed where Bellatrix sat.
"Harry," she said. "Here!"
He didn't turn around. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but get out of there. And that's exactly what he did.
